The Night Temple
by Beloved-Stranger
Summary: The mask still fitted. He couldn’t think why it wouldn’t, but the fear was still there. Fear that he had changed so much, so abruptly and without relapse, that his old alter ego would forsake him as well.
1. Promise, Iva, Waiting, Hunt

**The Night Temple 1**

_Leaves from the vine_

_Falling so slow_

_Like fragile tiny shells_

_Drifting in the foam_

_Little soldier boy, come marching home_

_Brave soldier boy, comes marching home_

– Iroh's Song –

* * *

Promise

"My beloved Lu Ten. We will meet again…"

Disembodied, dark-eyed, the son watched. A shade, a ghost of shadows, he sat curled beneath the oak, just beyond the stone lantern that marked his grave. When his father finally cried, the shade's own tears began, trailing like liquid pearls over the strong bones of his face.

Sight blurred, it was not until he felt the small hand land on his shoulder that he noticed the other spirits. He looked up, into the face of a girl. She couldn't have been older than fifteen.

"Come away," she murmured. "There will be time for you and him. But now, there is only time for history. Come, the Night Temple awaits."

Lu Ten nodded, and climbed to his feet. He cast one look back at the crouched figure before his grave.

"We _will_ meet again, father. Promise."

* * *

Iva

Eyes the colour of smoke paved his spine with ice. Zuko fought the urge to shudder.

The owner of the chilling eyes was a girl – young woman, really – of about seventeen. She had come into the shop about an hour ago, drunk three cups of tea, eaten two pastries and written a great deal in a small note book she had with her.

That, and watched Zuko and his uncle like a hawk on a mountain top.

It would be futile trying to tell Iroh about her, he would only wink and chuckle like he had with Jin, and possibly try to arrange a date. Zuko had the creeping feeling this girl wasn't interested in a date. She was far more likely to stab him in the eye with her quill pen.

Most people might not have thought this about her. She sat quietly, politely, a contemplative expression on her face. She almost looked like she was daydreaming, the way she looked right through him.

"Sir?"

Zuko froze, back to the counter, shoulders hunching instinctively. Turning, he blanked his face and said, "Yes, miss?"

"I'd like the bill please," the girl said. Turning to Iroh she smiled, like any other human girl. "I wish I could stay, the tea is marvelous."

_Human girl…_

Iroh beamed and clucked over her while Zuko handed over her change. He watched her sign the bill with the name 'Iva'.

_Iva…the yew tree…do you grow in graveyards…?_

At that moment, the air seemed to darken, the way it does at twilight. It was only for a split second, but it was enough. Zuko glanced sharply at the girl. She smiled at him, and her eyes were not grey, but pale violet.

There was a crash from outside the tea shop. The moment was gone, and everyone was turning toward the noise. Two soldiers had run down a pick-pocket, who squirmed and snipped, but froze like a fox at bay when they put spears to his throat. The once-prince looked back to see the girl – Iva – was no longer at the counter, but pulling a charcoal coloured mantle about her shoulders and ducking out the door.

Biting down on the feeling of discontent pacing his gut, he looked down at the signed bill and the pile of pennies she had left.

The boy froze.

The bill and pennies weren't all that was there.

Sitting, bright and conspicuous, were two tags of glossy black paper. Cautiously, he picked up the top most one and studied it. Written in eye-catching silver ink…

_The **Night Temple** invites the Man-Known-as-Li to pass beneath the Starred Arch and know Sanctuary._

A variation with his uncle's alias was written on the second tag. As well as that, the paper seemed to be giving off the odor of night-blooming jasmine.

Zuko sighed. As if life weren't strange enough already.

* * *

Waiting

Breakfast was late that day.

Toph and the boys sat in a row on the opposite side of the table wearing identical morose looks. Katara had to hide a smile when their stomachs grumbled in unison.

"_That_," Sokka declared flatly. "Is the most depressing sound on the face of the earth."

So it was not surprise that the moment breakfast did arrive, no one but Katara noticed that it was not the usual girl who brought it. As her companions fell upon their food, the young water-bender regarded the girl, who knelt silently in the corner, waiting to take the dishes away.

What made her distinctive from the other maids was that she wore an odd looking head cloth, hiding her forehead and ears. When she glanced up and found Katara's eyes, she had to keep from crying out in surprise. The girl's pupils were narrowed into black slits and surrounded by bright amber irises. The only other place Katara had seen eyes that colour was in the faces of Fire Nation warriors.

Quickly looking away, Katara nervously began eating. The meal ended and the new girl swiftly gathered the dishes and fled, stocking clad feet barely making a sound to mark her passing.

"Hey, guys, look at these!" That from Aang. He was holding a fan of black paper tags. Katara saw silver characters glinting in the morning sunlight. "They were under the breakfast tray."

The other three crowded over his shoulders, blinking.

"What is it?" Toph asked. "Hello, blind here…"

Aang shuffled through them, pulled out one tag and handed it to her. "It's got your name on it," he told her. He handed two more to Katara and Sokka.

Carefully the blue-eyed girl turned the tag over in her hands. The paper smelt oddly sweet. "The paper's perfumed..."

"Yeah," Aang replied, bubbling with delight. "Night-blooming jasmine. One of the monks at home had a whole grotto full of night blooming flowers." He grinned almost sheepishly. "I used to hide from my tutors there. Fell asleep once when the jasmine was in season. Weird, weird dreams…"

Katara smiled at him.

"Do your guys' ones all say the same thing?" Sokka asked. "An invitation –?"

"_The **Night Temple** invites the Girl-Known-as-Toph to walk beneath the Starred Arch and know Sanctuary._"

Toph's voice broke on the last word. She was gripping her invite hard enough to crumple it, the flesh beneath her fingernails turning white and bloodless with pressure.

"Toph?"

"I can see it," she said, sounding thick with tears.

Tears. I was so…un-Toph-like. Everyone else seemed afraid to speak.

"I can see the lettering, right in front of me. I – I know what it says – which makes no sense cos, gee, never learnt to read. But I can see them; read them, whenever I touch the paper."

"How…?"

Aang reached out and took Toph's hand in his own. "Magic," he breathed.

* * *

Hunt  


The mask still fitted. He couldn't think why it wouldn't, but the fear was still there. Fear that he had changed so much, so abruptly and without relapse, that his old alter ego would forsake him as well.

But no. Despite all, the Blue Spirit persona still slipped over him like a second wild-faced skin.

Twin broadswords at his back, he padded down alleys, over rooftops, through gardens…neatly picking his way between the sleeping lives of Ba Sing Se.

_Search…search and be cautious, ever so cautious…_

He hunted 'til dawn, and found not a whit of her. No stranger with smoking eyes. No stranger with a charcoal mantle. No stranger with a fistful of invitations to a temple that didn't exist.

The boy beneath the Blue Spirit found many things – but nothing he was looking for. Collapsing into bed as the sparrows outside his window began to chorus, Zuko clutched the glossy black tag, and wished that it were true.

…_walk beneath the Starred Arch and know Sanctuary._


	2. Mothers, Lost, Awkward, Revelation

**AN:** I'm tickled by the reviews guys. Love to all. Sorry if I confused anyone. The story is basically a big series of interlinking drabbles, so read with that in mind. Anyway, here's the next one, enjoy.

* * *

**The Night Temple 2**

_I can hear you_

_Late in my head_

_I have lived this life_

_For a thousand years_

_You say_

_It's buried in the sand_

_Somewhere_

– Endorphin, "Afterwords" –

* * *

Mothers

"The invites went out today."

Ursa blinked.

"Pardon?"

Across the table, Kita smiled at her, blue eyes glinting the way gemstones do under candlelight.

"Distracted?" she asked gently, putting down her teacup.

Ursa blushed, and then sighed. "Yes, and – frustrated." Absently, she began combing her jet hair with long dainty fingers.

"It must be easy for you, Kita, seeing the paths your children have chosen and how well they tred them." She looked away from her companion's kind eyes.

"I see what mine have done…and I wonder if after all of this is over, whether there will still be a place for them that isn't a jail cell or a grave."

Kita reached across the small table and disentangled Ursa's fingers, taking the other woman's hands in her own. "Don't be sad," she murmured. "We can't possibly be responsible for them after all this time. You taught them as you could, within the parameters you were given. And for all that you're so woeful about it, that young Zuko of yours seems to be coming along nicely."

She paused and gave Ursa a calculating look. "Though I don't think you should count on any grandchildren at this point."

Ursa let out a burst of surprised laughter. Sniffing, blinking away the tears she hadn't even felt forming, she managed, "Goodness, yes, he is such a disaster with girls. So awkward…"

"Although the lanterns where a nice touch," Kita remarked. "And he did get a kiss out of it. His first?"

Ursa nodded as she dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. She giggled suddenly. "Maybe my Zuko should take lessons from your Sokka, hm? First our lovely moon goddess and now that darling Kyoshi warrior."

Kita let out a un-lady-like hoot of laughter. "Can you imagine it?" the water tribeswoman crowed.

"A war of egos," Ursa predicted. She looked down and fell silent abruptly. "I hope they come. I hope we can help them."

Kita got to her feet and stepped around the table. Curling up beside her friend, she took the other woman's hands again. Wordless, they sat together, watching bright leaves fall in the small garden beyond their tea room.

It was always Autumn at the Night Temple.

* * *

Lost

He was moving about behind the stall. Lifting boxes of vegetables, unpacking crates. He seemed so calm, passive.

Docile.

His armour, his swords, both gone. He seemed stripped of anything that might have once made him a warrior.

His hair was longer than she remembered, and he had scraped some of it back into a short tail at the nap of his neck. Compared the unruly mane of before, this made him look tame.

A customer asked about cabbages and was answered by dull black eyes and a rough, dragging voice.

'This isn't him,' she thought desperately. 'It can't be. How – _what_ could have possibly broken him this much…?

'…Jet.'

Someone touched her arm, and Katara turned, unable to hide the anguish on her face in time. The girl standing beside her was about her height with scruffy brown hair and dark green eyes that looked like they should have been smiling. They weren't now.

"Did you know him?" she murmured, indicating Jet.

Katara nodded wordlessly.

The girl sighed, looking sympathetic and pained. "He's been staying with my family for a week now. We found him wandering about a block from here. My name's Jin by the way."

The abrupt topic change caught her by surprise. "Katara," she managed. "I'm Katara."

* * *

Awkward

"Li?"

Zuko turned from the backbench, coming face to face with Jin's bird-bright gaze.

"Jin," he said blankly, feeling tendrils of familiar (and frankly illogical) panic swarming up his chest. It had been about a week since their date – she hadn't come back since then. Zuko had been half hoping she would never set foot in the shop again, and half wishing she would show up so that he could at least apologize.

'_It's complicated.' And it still was…_

Now however, he was whole-heartedly wishing some earth-bender would show up and make the floor swallow him. No such luck.

"Did you want tea?" he found himself asking.

Jin raised an eyebrow at him. "No," she said flatly. "I was hoping for a back rub."

Zuko fought self-strangulation.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ I came for tea! This _is_ a tea shop." She grinned affectionately at him. "Doofus."

"Right – okay – I'll just –" Zuko gestured over his shoulder to the shop kitchen.

"You do that," Jin said pleasantly.

As he ducked away, the girl rolled her eyes again and padded back to her booth. Sliding into the seat facing the counter, she muttered, "Boys…"

Katara smiled weakly. "Yeah," she agreed.

* * *

Revelation

When Zuko emerged with Jin's tea on a tray, said female was waiting at the counter for it.

"I was just going to –" he began.

"I'll take it," she told him briskly. "I've got a friend with me. She's in a rather delicate emotional state. I don't want…anyone…upsetting her."

"Upsetting her?" Zuko bristled, completely forgetting to be awkward. "How would me bringing her tea _upset_ her?"

"No reason," Jin replied smoothly.

"You think _I'll_ upset her!" he accused.

"Li, just give me the tea tray."

"No!"

"What's going on out here?" Iroh muttered, stumping out of the kitchen. He took the scene in at a glance: Zuko holding a laden tea tray out of the girl's reach, glaring while Jin reached for it, an uncharacteristically snappish look on her face.

"Mr. Mushi," Jin said quickly. "I have a friend with me who's in a _very delicate emotional state_."

Both Iroh's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. "Aah," he said darting a look a Zuko, whose face was colouring to match his scar. "Well then, we wouldn't want…anyone…upsetting her, would we? Li, give me that tea tray and show Jin today's selection of pastries."

Zuko gawped as Iroh smoothly removed the tea tray from his grasp and Jin put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him toward the kitchen.

The old general chortled quietly to himself as he tromped toward Jin's table. Finally, someone who could fluster the boy enough to boss him round a bit.

He could see Jin's friend. She had her back to him, so was for the moment a swath of glossy brown hair braided to one side of her neck and an elegant silk noble woman's robe of pale green. What he failed to notice was the sea foam pattern at the hems and the band of a familiar water tribe necklace at her throat.

Rounding the table, quietly proclaiming, "Here is your tea, young miss…" Iroh found himself looking into a startled pair of ocean-coloured eyes.

"You…" said the water-bender.

Iroh set down the tray before he dropped it and then dropped himself into the seat opposite her.

"So if _you're_ here…" she murmured.

He followed her glance to the counter and nodded.

Katara regarded the teapot solemnly for a moment. Looking back at the Dragon of the West she whispered, "I won't tell if you won't."

Iroh beamed like a second sun and pressed a tea coupon into her hands. "Deal."

* * *


	3. Luna, Cubs, Regret, Visible

**AN:** I totally dig you guys. I buzz off to uni for like, three hours and come home to three more reviews. Lets here it for Jonnoda and MormonMaiden - loyal! Anyway, here's the third installment. If you can find it, listen to Bill Whelan's "Heart's Cry", its a song from the Riverdance soundtrack - you know, the Irish dance production? It's a beautiful piece of music and really offsets the story, especially Luna. Ah well, enjoy guys.

* * *

**The Night Temple 3**

_Where the river flows_

_And searches to the sea_

_Silver figures rise_

_To find me_

_Wise and as daring_

_Following the heart's cry_

– Bill Whelan's "Heart's Cry" –

* * *

Luna

It was like wandering down a great staircase.

The world lay replete below, shining after dark like a tiny mirror of the scattered diamonds around her. Those diamonds, those stars, were singing softly now, as she stepped down from the sky. The Veil of the New Moon was soft about her, made of a fabric that seemed silk and velvet at the same time. It masked her white glory perfectly. Humming along with her nocturnal neighbours, the goddess spiraled down, earthbound and eager.

She chose the North Pole entrance to the Temple, hidden away in a glacier that had carried it far from the city where she was born.

Shedding the Veil as she went, she passed beneath the Starred arch where the violet-eyed high priestess met her.

"Goddess Yue."

"Priestess Iva."

The two bowed, smiled and linked arms. Iva began leading the way to Yue's favourite tea room.

"The invites have been sent…"

Yue smiled. "So I saw. You gave that fire prince quite a turn, Iva."

The priestess shrugged. "It is so tedious, blending into the mortal world." She fluttered one hand, and shadows crawled in nightmarish patterns up the walls. The torches in the wall sconces cowered away from her.

Yue's smile became indulgent. "Still teasing mortals for fun, for shame my friend."

Iva simply chuckled. "But you said you had news?"

Suddenly solemn, the moon goddess nodded. "The Dai Li have transgressed too far this time, Iva. Appa was here, in Ba Sing Se, he flew right below me. They used a whistle to lure him earthward, and then trapped him beneath the city. All that was left was a footprint."

Iva's face was stormy. "They _have_ transgressed too far. The bison is sacred, a spiritual animal." She shook her head and sighed. "I'll have the servals look for him, but it will be up to the Avatar to get him back. We can only act so far in this, limited as we are in all mortal affairs."

Light and Dark, they continued down the halls of the Temple.

* * *

Cubs

Aang had spent the day napping. At the zoo. In the tigerdillo's enclosure.

Despite being somewhat…unconventional, this was – arguably – one of Aang's best ideas.

It had been one of those days where the house felt cramped and close-walled. One of the days when the familiar detritus and currently abandoned camp gear reminded him too much of his lost friend. When the bison whistle felt heavy on its new cord about his neck.

The young Avatar had felt the serious need to be away from it all. To be alone for a while.

Cat napping on top of the tigerdillo's cave block was perfect. A) He was far, far away from the confines of the house, and B) no one was likely to risk the wrath of a fully-grown-vicious-feline-predator to bother him.

The tigerdillo itself wasn't a threat either. Like Aang, its temper had evened out once freed from the oppressive walls of its previous enclosure. For the most part, they ignored each other. Once Aang had woken up to find a shadow looming over him. Before he could reach for the whistle, the tigerdillo slumped down next to him and began snoozing. The air-bender had smiled and happily used the creature's outstretched paws as pillows.

When he woke next it was to the sound of children's voices. The tigerdillo was down by the fence, tail waving expectantly, golden eyes trained on –

Aang eeped in horror.

– The small child attempting to wriggle over the earth barrier and into the enclosure.

"No!" cried Aang. "Don't! Don't do it!" He leapt from the rock and scootered to the waiting tigerdillo.

In the blink of an eye a girl was at the fence, trying to haul the baby back over. She couldn't have been more than eleven. The baby squalled indignantly. "Tiggie!" he wailed, fists balling in the girl's tunic. "Want tiggie!"

"No, Rin, not now!" she wailed back, albeit a little quieter. "We'll get in trouble." She gave the tigerdillo an appealing look. "I'm sorry, sir, but we'll get in trouble."

To Aang's everlasting surprise, the tigerdillo made a disappointed sound in its throat, then reached up and tickled the baby's feet with its whiskers. The baby gave a squeal of surprise and propelled himself into the girl's arms. For a moment, his head cloth slipped, and the young Avatar could have sworn he saw cat ears.

"Bad tiggie!" Rin called over his shoulder.

As Aang reached them, the tigerdillo huffed and gave them an indulgent look. The two children were suddenly silent, watching him. Both had extraordinary copper eyes and wore odd looking head clothes over their ears and foreheads.

"Um…hi?" Aang said, waving with one and rubbing the back of his neck with the other, all the while feeling distinctly uncomfortable. They were just _staring_ at him…

"You're the Avatar," the girl said softly.

"Yeah," Aang replied cheerfully. "Name's Aang. Who're you?"

The girl bowed carefully, saying, "I'm Maemi, sir, and this is my little brother, Rin." The baby gurgled.

"Maemi!"

All of them turned at the shout. It was a boy, Aang's age, with a similar head cloth and narrowed amber eyes. He shouted again. "Come on, it's time to go. We're expected back at the Temple by sun down."

"Temple?" asked the Avatar. "You guys live at a temple? Which one?"

Maemi looked panicked. "I – I'm sorry, Avatar, sir, we have to go. G – Goodbye." She dashed away, Rin bouncing on her hip and waving to the tigerdillo.

"Bye tiggie!"

Aang exchanged a look with the tigerdillo.

"Well, that was weird."

* * *

Regret

"It's so stupid, really," Katara muttered, staring fixedly at her teacup. "I mean, he was such a jerk. He did some really horrible things. But seeing him like that –"

"It hurts," Jin stated. "And it's okay that it does. You knew him. It would be horrifying whoever it was, just because of the wrongness of it."

"You sound like you've had experience with…" Katara made a motion with her hand. "…this."

Jin nodded and took a fortifying gulp of tea. "A man who had his stall next to ours on market days. He just wouldn't keep his voice down, always yelling at people over the war. What the Earth King _was_ doing, what he _wasn't_ doing. That sort of thing. He got into a fight one day, and soldiers took him away. He came back like _that_."

Katara shuddered.

"What was Jet, before he came to Ba Sing Se?"

The water-bender sighed. "He was a freedom fighter, or at least, he said he was. I don't think he was very good at it." She scowled. "Total disregard for innocent human life. Bastard."

She looked guilty for a moment. "It's easier to hate him," she confessed.

Jin nodded. "Yeah. Have one of the pastries. The honey glaze is really good."

Katara agreed it was.

* * *

Visible

…_Starred Arch…_

…_know sanctuary…_

…_Girl-Known-as-Toph…_

Fingers gliding, smoothing, the Blind Bandit watched the silver characters jump and dance behind her eyelids. 'I _know_ you,' she thought gleefully. 'I can see you and have deciphered your meanings. I can _read_ you!'

Around her, the garden trembled gently in time to her delighted laughter. Birds flew startled from the maples and flower petal fell like silent, white rain.

'I can _read_ you…'

* * *


	4. How, Sneak, Rise, Summons

**AN:** Howdy. Thanks to all who reviewed! I'm happily blushing away here.

_Also, a tip:_ think Sokka. Think Yue. Now listen very closely to the lyrics of "The Scientist". Now go write fanfiction.

Alrighty, get ready guys cos I'm moving the plot along. You'll be getting a real buttload of background info in the first two drabbles, which will hopefully unconfuse a few people. Other than that, enjoy.

* * *

**The Night Temple 4**

_No body said it was easy_

_It's such a shame_

_For us to part_

_No body said it was easy_

_No one ever said_

_It would be this hard_

_I'm going back to the start_

– Coldplay, "The Scientist" –

* * *

How

The dead cannot be lumped into one category. There are many types who wander the beyond regions. Each bears the mark of the thing that killed them. Most of the time, this simply involves a small symbol; black on the back of the hands, silver-white on the palms. These are peaceful, timely deaths.

But for those who die by the elements…the marks of passing are not as easy to ignore.

Those who die by fire wear ashes. Their eyes are set in masks of black; an inch wide band of soot stretching from one temple to the other. The same jet dust makes patterns of dark flames across their wrists and forearms.

Those who die by water wear frost. It clings to their eyelashes and brows, making old men and women from dancing children whose lips and eyelids are blue with cold. It sits in swirls across their hands, showing up purpled fingernails.

Those who die by earth wear loam. Half disintegrated leaves show just beneath the skin of their arms and cheeks. Clay paints their eyelids and colours the creases of dead hands.

To those so uneducated as to wonder about the element of air, let it be known that air never killed anyone. It may fling you up in a hurricane, but it is the earth catching you that does you in. You may suffocate for lack of it, but it is the water filling you lungs that takes you away. It may fan a lighted house, but it is the flames that will melt you into the dark beyond.

Despite all this, Lu Ten wore none of these marks. The Son of the Dragon had not died by fire, or earth, or water. Lu Ten had been shot by an Earth Kingdom archer. Even now, he wore green fletching feathers in his topknot, while the iron head of the arrow that killed him lay against his breast, strung on a cord about his neck.

"Nephew?"

It was Ursa, she who had died by hemlock, in a tower far, far from home, and who was buried in an orchard by the sea. Every year, the farmer who owned the orchard placed fruit and incense by her grave and taught his children to say prayers for her. She smelt of apple blossom and sea salt, but never the hemlock woven into her hair and encircling her wrists. For this, Lu Ten was grateful.

"Here, Aunt Ursa," he called. The willow branches parted to admit the former fire consort. She stood smiling in muted red silk.

"One day to go," she announced. "One day, and I can whack some sense into that silly cousin of yours."

Lu Ten let out a bark of surprised laughter. "What?"

Ursa sighed, sitting next to him by the pond and following his gaze out to the water gardens. "Kita and I were talking about it yesterday. Zuko had his first date. Very awkward. He really has no idea how to talk to girls…well, unless it's to wage war against them."

Her nephew gave her a raised eyebrow look. "The living with walk amongst us tomorrow, and all you can think about is _Zuko's_ abysmal love life?"

"It's either that, or no grandchildren."

The prince laughed again. The Crossover would be _entertaining_ this Cycle at any rate.

* * *

Sneak

It had taken two hours of consistent tip-toeing, but he was finally in. The City University Library stretched in all its scholarly glory before him.

"Gran-Gran, if you could see me now," Sokka muttered, creeping diligently along the shelves. "Sokka the meat and sarcasm guy…now Sokka the library guy."

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for either. The history archives were huge, but there was only so much in reference to obscure temples and religions. Another hour, six books and fifteen scrolls later, he found it.

The journal was not in the best of repair, but it was legible and the ink of good enough quality that it hadn't faded much. The first entry that caught his eye was a notation of a bizarre prank letter.

'…_black tag…silver inked…night blooming jasmine…'_

"Here we go."

Turning the aged pages, Sokka's eyes widened.

These entries were accompanied by sketches. The first was small, but clearly showed a small girl in peasant garb first with a strange head cloth on, then without it –

– Revealing the wide black-tipped cat's ears and the spirit sigil painted on her wide forehead. It was labelled, _'servals: children with cats' ears and eyes. serve the temple.'_

Further down the page were illustrations of – Sokka swallowed hard – the dead, each baring significant markings, denoting how they died.

'…_those who die by fire…'_

His mother would wear that mask, those spiralling flames.

He turned the page and found a series of diagrams on something called Cycles. It turned out that a Cycle was seven years. At the end of each Cycle, during the summer, was a period called the Crossover, lasting one month.

'…_at this time, a great many festivals converge, where the year before there were none. masks are popular. participants often comment on feelings of surreality. others, thought to have been drugged or drunk, speak of seeing spirits of the dead passing amongst the seething crowds…'_

Page after page of bizarre notes followed. Sokka learnt about the great Starred Arch; the entrance to the supposed Night Temple. He gently touched the image of Iva, the yew tree girl, the shadow bender, the high priestess.

There was a sharp crack followed by a thud two shelves down. Sokka froze. The silence ebbed for a moment, riddled with agitated whispers, then settled. The tribesboy sprang into harried action, shoving the book into his satchel and darting back through the shelves.

One pair of amber eyes watched him go. The second was trained on the fallen Dai Li officer at his feet. When the boy was gone, the two servals propped their victim up against a shelf with a book in his lap. If anyone saw, they would think him a student who had dozed off studying. That done, they sank away into the shadows.

Tonight was Crossover, and there was much to be done in preparation.

* * *

Rise

"There's a festival on tonight."

In the upper tiers of the city, Aang first heard these words from Katara as she wandered in from checking their mail box.

It was evening, and everyone save Toph and Momo sat quiet and exhausted. Sokka was curled around one side of the table, nose buried in a book that looked like it had seen better days. Katara looked at thought she had been crying earlier that day (her eyes were pink and puffy) but when asked said she was just tired. Aang himself perched on the window sill, the bison whistle in easy reach.

At Katara's words, he hovered from the sill and came to read over her shoulder.

"The Crossover Festival? I've never heard of that one before."

They both missed Sokka's sharp look. "Maybe we should go," he suggested carefully. "Could be fun." His tone turned flat. "And we sure haven't had any fun lately."

The benders had looked at each other in turn. Toph, in her fashion, pressed her fingers to the floor and listened carefully to the other's heart rates. Katara's and Aang's were only slightly elevated; they were tired, and their bodies were working to recover and little. Sokka's, however, was beating like a rat in a trap. Why was he so nervous?

"I guess we could go," Katara sighed. "It says here it's taking place in the lower tier town square. We'll have to walk."

As they trooped out, Sokka pulling the door shut behind him noticed Toph flicking her Temple invite between avid fingers.

"You might need that," he murmured, striding past.

* * *

Summons

"There's a festival on tonight!"

Zuko, in the lower tier of the city, heard these words from his exuberant uncle. They were promptly followed by, "Hurry up, we're going!" and being bundled out the door to go and spend their most recent wages on party food and trinkets.

Now, the festival raged around them, a blur of masked faces, spitting lanterns and over-bright streamers. Iroh smiled, looking about like a child while his nephew trailed behind him, silently overwhelmed.

Without warning, one face swam out of the crowd and hovered across the street; half covered in painted shadows and lit with the sparks from a guttering lantern.

One eye violet, one eye gray.

Iva.

"Hey!" Zuko called.

The yew tree girl smiled. The lantern smothered, died. Completely shadowed she seemed to disappear save for the suddenly matching eyes. They winked once in the remaining light, and were gone too.

Zuko wasted no time in grabbing Iroh and leading a mad dash toward the ally where she had stood.

"Iva, come back!"

The chase was on.

"_Iva!"_


	5. Above, Below, Maze, Arch

**AN:**Okay, just a few issues to clear up here. First of all, updates may become weekly or even fortnightly; I've got a hectic couple of months coming up. November is study, exams and then a holiday to Rarotonga, and after _that_, minor surgery. December means recovering from surgery and starting up my holiday job again. My deepest and most humble apologies guys.

Also, my concept of the dead in this story: this is and isn't original. It stems alot from the Celtic legends concerning Fairy Mounds and dancing circles. People get lured away to dance for a night, and then wake up with bleeding feet on the hill, a hundred years later. Only, you know, this is hopefully, slightly less sinister. The dead themselves come from all cultures beliefs that ghosts bear marks of how they died, or whatever killed them.

Thanks for all the reviews!

* * *

**The Night Temple 5**

_I've been counting up all my wrongs_

_One sorry for each star_

_See I'd apologize my way to you_

_If the heavens stretched that far_

_You are the one I want_

_You are the one I want_

– Brooke Fraser, "Arithmetic" –

* * *

Above

"I hope you find him."

Maemi was sitting on a stool in their tree house, watching her elder brother gear up. Ro, a picture of what Rin would be when he matured, grinned at his little sister. He was all dark ears and hair, amber eyes up-tilted. The smile lit them from behind, and they glowed, twin beacons. His wooden armour would let him disappear against earth, bark, leaves or fields. He could out pace the swiftest ostrich-horse – no soldier nor arrow would catch him.

Maemi knew he would be safe…but knowing never stopped worrying.

"We will," he assured her. "There's nothing we can't find. An' spiritual beasts're our specialty."

Kissing her cheek and that of the squirming baby in her lap, Ro strode from the room, calling across the branches of the Temple orchard.

"C'mon boys an' girls. We got us a bison to find!"

* * *

Below

The box was hot and airless, the tiny windows at its top only allowing superficial ventilation. Outside, the arching night sky could just be seen, stars flickering uncertainly against a velvet backdrop. The train grated onward, out of the inner walls, towards the endings and beginnings of the Impenetrable City.

In the opinion of the wise, the name was a lie.

Appa was wise. But the name of human dwelling clusters (true or not) was the least of his bisonly concern at this point. Aang was going further and further out of his ken, he could feel it. It was not a happy-making thought. Unhappy bison, even underfed ones, tend to roar.

It was no surprise, then, how quickly Ro and his comrades located Appa's carriage. Swinging and tip-toeing across the train's many roofs, the little cloaked figures surrounded the bison box. Ro signaled with his hands, and then wriggled in through one of the windows.

"Howdy, big guy," he greeted the bison. Behind him several other servals followed. They began checking Appa over for hurt. Two unloaded food from their packs.

Ro pressed a gemstone, set on a stud in his left ear. The stone hummed. Silver leylines spread, overlapping his vision. They outlined the tracks ahead, mapping the way they would take, and had already taken. Satisfied, he pressed the stone again, watching the lines fade. He began to help the others groom their new charge.

"Best settle in," he told Appa. "Methinks we've a way to go."

* * *

Maze

"Hey! Hey, come back!"

The Avatar waved desperately and bolted after the girl darting away down yet another ally. Behind him, Sokka followed, strangely silent, a determined expression setting his features. Katara and Toph trailed after them, the later muttering. The earth-bender disliked running because it didn't give her time to pick up vibrations from the earth. Those that she did get were confused because she was causing her own.

To Katara, it seemed they were in a maze. She had known Ba Sing Se was huge, and crowded, but this was ridiculous. She had lost track of how far they had come, of how many turns they had made.

'By now,' she thought, 'we must be miles away from the square.'

And still the maid refused to stop, to heed Aang's calls. Katara had recognized the head cloth, while Aang said he had seen her at the zoo earlier that day. Sokka, who would by this point usually be complaining, had said nothing. Of everything, Katara found this the most disturbing.

That new low was about to be trumped.

Maemi tripped, nearly falling and her head cloth came loose. She turned at looked at them, copper eyes the size of saucers.

"I _knew_ it!" Sokka howled, pointed triumphantly at the serval's quivering cat ears. "Night Temple here we come!"

* * *

Arch

"Zuko, I'm a fat old man," Iroh wheezed drawing up beside his suddenly still nephew. "And fat old men can only run so far…"

"Uncle," the once-prince said softly. "Look."

The elderly general followed Zuko's stunned gaze. His face slackened. "Now how did we miss _that?_" he muttered.

The Arch spread before and above them, resplendent. Its twin pillars soared well above the city's rooftops, seeming to become part of the diamond studded sky. Drawing closer, the two outcasts saw that it was smoothed from impossibly coloured marble, and that the stars were _actual_ diamonds set into the stone.

"See how they sparkle?" a familiar voice said. "At the core of each jewel is a soul waiting to be reborn, should they wish to be. They can wait for centuries."

It was Iva. 'How could it not be?' Zuko thought.

Out loud he said, "You…you're a part of this place? The Night Temple?"

She bowed her head. "I suppose. Would you consider the station of high priestess 'a part of' the Temple?"

"High priestess?" Iroh awkwardly bent at the waist. "In that case, it was an honour…" he intoned.

The priestess smiled.

"…to have served you tea," the general finished.

Iva laughed. Zuko noticed the shadows leaping in time to the sound. The soul-diamonds paused in their dances when she drew near. He watched her eyes stray from them, her head kilted to the side, listening.

"Ah, more guests."

At that moment, a girl stumbled out of the ally behind them. Zuko stared openly, saffron eyes huge. Her ears…

"Maemi? What is – oh. Oh, wow."

And behind her came four even _more_ familiar figures. Two teenagers in water tribe blue, the short, strange-eyed earth-bender, _and –_

"The Avatar," he rasped.

"And Co." the water tribe boy added. He held a worn book in his hands. Unhurriedly, he flipped through it. "How did you get invited anyway?" he wanted to know. "Says here only 'heroes and the beloved of the world' get in." He eyed the two fire-benders. "Nope, sorry, just not seeing it. No offence." That followed by a nod in Iroh's direction.

Iroh smiled. "None taken." He grinned magnanimously. "Though it is a delight to see you again, young earth-bender! And you Katara, I trust you and Jin enjoyed your tea."

Silence reigned. For approximately, three seconds.

"_She's_ the one in the 'delicate emotional state'?!"

"Zuko," Iroh admonished. "It is rude to point."

"Who said anything about a 'delicate emotional state'?" Katara asked archly.

"Jin," the two fire-benders chorused.

"…oh, that."

"What d'you mean, 'that'?" snapped Zuko.

"You will undoubtedly find out later," the priestess interrupted smoothly. "But right now, the night begins to age, and there are those within the Temple who would have your company before the sun rises."

"_This_ is the Night Temple?" Toph queried, looking apprehensive. "But it's like a vibrational null. There's nothing there."

"You'll see," Iva said, full of secretive smiles and smug shadows. "Come."

Sokka was the first to start forward. Katara grabbed his arm. "Wait! Sokka, we don't know anything about this place, how can you trust her –?"

Her brother turned, gripped her arms, put his suddenly earnest face close to hers. "Katara, listen to me. I've done my research. I know what's going on here."

She was a pair of wide anxious eyes, a quivering uncertain child on the edge of an abyss. "What…?"

"The temple is a place that exists between our world and the spirit world, Katara. It opens to mortals every seven years, for just one month. We're some of the few ever invited. 'Heroes and the beloved of nations', Katara. People who do good deed and children, that's what it means."

"Okay, I get that, but Sokka…"

He shook her gently. "Think, baby sister. The spirit world. Where do people go when they die?"

The anxious eyes widened further in realization. Tears of amazement gathered. Sokka would hug her in moment; she looked like she needed it.

"Katara," he whispered, beginning to smile. "We're going to see Mom…"

* * *


	6. Never, Real, Time, Embrace

**(late) Disclaimer:** I don't own the songs, or the Avatar. Woe is me..._!rank!_

******AN:** Never, because she's a brat, but she's our brat.

Real, because that particular disappointment needed healing.

Time, because the old man deserves it.

Embrace, because they never got to say goodbye.

I'm sorry I took so long...study week you know. But here it is. Much love to all who reviewed. MormonMaiden can tell you how much of a review-whore I've become, so don't forget to hit the button on your way out. Enjoy.

* * *

**The Night Temple 6**

_It was just another night_

_With a sunset and a moonrise_

_Not so far behind_

_To give us just enough light_

_To lay down underneath the stars_

_Listen to all translations_

_Of the stories across the sky_

_We drew out own constellations_

– Jack Johnson, "Constellations" –

* * *

Never

It was the priestess who had taken her hand and led her over the threshold of the Temple, guiding her to a place where she – for once – truly would be blind.

A vague tickling at the back of her neck told her they were beneath the Arch. From the gasps of awe she had heard sprouted one tiny, nano-second of a wish.

'I wish I could see it…'

Her feet touched the threshold, so unnaturally silent a place, and the world seemed to flip screaming onto its back. Unaware of the change in herself, Toph tipped her head back, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes.

It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

She guessed this was the Arch, that those were stars and that the colour surrounding them was called 'dark blue'.

Turning very slowly, she looked over her shoulder.

It was surprising how easy she recognized them. There was Katara; clinging to Sokka's hand (the colour of their eyes was wonderful and startling).

And Aang, with his tattoos and air-bender garb (there isn't a bit of him that isn't bright).

She could see (could see!) the old guy, the one they called Iroh, the Dragon of the West. Toph wondered why for a moment, because if anyone looked like a dragon should look, it was his nephew.

Zuko, who had fierce eyes and jagged hair, was intriguing to gaze at. The scar lent his face an added swathe of colour, made a maybe reasonable visage dangerous.

She swept her eyes across them, intrigued again by they way their faces moved, transformed. Mouths gapped, eyes widened. She had felt these changes in her own face before, she knew what they meant.

"What?" she asked with familiar aggression. "What're you codfish all gaping at?"

Katara let go of her brother's hand and came towards her. The suddenness of having to refocus her eyes left the earth-bender slightly dizzy. Her friend put warm hands on her arms to steady her. Next thing she knew, she was face-to-face with those startling eyes.

"Toph," Kartara whispered. "Remember that day when we were coming back from the spa? Those girls made fun of us, and I told you, you were pretty?"

Toph smiled. "Yeah, I remember." The smile became a grin. "You're pretty too, Katara, I can see that now." A new colour showed on the water-bender's tawny cheeks. Toph guessed this is what people meant when they described blushing. If it was, it was a good indication Katara was happy about the complement. Toph continued to grin.

"That – thanks, Toph. But what I was going to say was, if you wanted proof of what I told you…well, here it is."

Water, summoned from Katara's pouch, spiraled up, dancing in the light of the soul-diamonds. It solidified into a disc of ice and with one swipe of the tribesgirl's hand, became smooth, reflective. Before she could figure out what her friend was doing, the disc was hovering in front of her, and…

"Oh."

It was her. She was pretty. And her eyes…weren't pale like she'd always been told. They had changed. Become deeper. Greener. She would later be able to compare them to lily-pad leaves.

Without knowing it, she had gripped the edges of the mirror. Now, it was gently pulled from her freezing fingers. A pair of indescribably violet eyes filled her vision. The eyes smiled in their pale face.

The priestess held both her hands and whispered, "As long as you walk within the Temple, Toph Bei Fong, you will never be helpless. You will never be made fragile. And you will never be blind."

"Never?"

"Never."

* * *

Real

It hadn't taken her long to get lost. The Temple was as much a maze as the illusion of alleyways that led to it. Once again she found herself at the centre of said puzzle. She stood in the main worship room.

The alter was beyond beautiful. It was made to imitate a cliff face, carved painstakingly from multicoloured marble. Tiny animals and masked figures danced and battled on its little pathways and ridges, all designed in ivory and semi-precious stones. In pockets of soil, tiny bonsai trees flourished as well as several types of creeper vines and cacti. Maiden's hair, western violets, even tiny primroses.

Between these flowed a miniature water fall that ended in a small pond made to look like a lake. In it were five islands; one for each elemental civilization surrounding the fifth, representing the spirit world. Like the cliff face, each island was populated by small plants, carved animals and people. The Water Tribe island had real ice and snow, while the Fire Nation sported a tiny working volcano. The Earth Kingdom held the lushest flora, and the Air Aeries were surrounded by miniscule, whistling tornadoes. They danced and sang like children's spinning tops.

The island of the spirit world was different. A miniature version of the Starred Arch could just be seen shining from behind a swathe of silver mist. Tiny drifting figures could be spotted as well, gimlet eyes winking like soul-diamonds. Beautiful, and haunting.

Katara stood drinking it in for what felt like a blissful sort of age. Her observation was broken by one of the side doors creaking open. The water-bender hastily stepped back into one of the recesses housing a minor shrine, where she could watch in unseen silence.

The person who emerged from the door was a woman. She had her back to Katara, but that never stopped a girl recognizing her fellow tribeswoman. About to call out to her, Katara stopped herself suddenly.

There was something eerily familiar about this scene. Something about the way the filtering sunlight touched the woman's hair, her blue overcoat and white under-sleeves and -leggings. Everything mingling with the sound of moving water and the scent of growing things.

The swamp.

Oh spirits, the _swamp_.

It had to be an illusion. There was no way it could be…

…but this was the _Night Temple_…

She watched through furious tears, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides, as the woman moved to kneel before the alter. She (_Mother…_) pulled several multicoloured sticks of incense from her pockets and set them in the provided censers. White sparks flew from the tiny volcano and touched the ends of the incense, setting them alight and filling the worship room with the scent of thyme and pine needles.

Five minutes of excruciating silence followed.

Finally, the tribeswoman stood, sighing, and brushing imaginary dust from her knees. As she turned to go, a small gasping sound made her pause, pivot and…

"Katara?"

Still fighting the tears that fell regardless down her cheeks. Hands trembling and fisting at her sides.

_That voice, _that voice_. Bright eyes like her's, but these were masked (died by fire, see the soot). Oh, Mama… Must be strong, could not be real. Mama…_

…_here she comes._

And she was engulfed in the familiar scents, unnamable and purely 'Mother'. Warm, true arms curled about her. Unable to stop, she clung, and buried her face in her mother's shoulder. Kita crooned reassurances and gentle questions, but all Katara could say, again and again:

"You're real, you're _real_…"

* * *

Time

Iroh sat, grinning, and observing a scene he had had no hope of ever recreating, ever again. Not since his invasion of Ba Sing Se and Ursa's disappearance, at any rate.

But here it was. Lu Ten was laughing, head thrown back just as Iroh remembered. Ursa had her arm around her son and was gently teasing him about Jin. Zuko was smiling ruefully and blushing, more at ease than Iroh had ever seen him since his scarring all those years ago.

They were in Ursa's favourite tea room. It backed onto a pretty garden, filled with red maples and smoke-blossom. She had told them that she usually shared it with a Water Tribe friend of hers. Lu Ten had smiled and asked after 'Kita'. Only Iroh had noticed Zuko's slam-faced expression, and managed to chuckle only quietly.

And the old general couldn't help noticing…

…how Lu Ten still teased his cousin about his childhood temper tantrums.

…how unashamed his nephew was, all of a sudden, to smile, and even laugh.

…how Ursa's dark eyes danced as she attempted to give Zuko 'girl advice'.

…how he himself still manages to get into lively debates about the quality of – of all things – tea, with Lu Ten.

…how, above all, it felt as though no time had passed at all…

* * *

Embrace

From the porch steps of her quarters, it appeared that the garden was empty. There were no voices save those of the slight breeze through the bows of the willow, and the invisible birds who rode upon its gusts. No one sat on the provided bench on the opposite side of the pond. No one stood on the tiny foot bridge crossing the stream that feed the pond, and no one crouched beside the silent spring that began the stream.

But then if someone had been searching, they might have thought to look beneath the willow, through the gap where the veil of silver and blue leaves parted. From there, a framed view of the great trunk is available, and thus, the sight of the two people curled against it.

From where he was lying, Sokka could see the willow leaves dancing down into the pond. He watched them, blue eyes half-mast and infinitely lazy. A pair of silk wrapped shoulders stirred on his chest. Looking down the tribesboy smiled.

Yue was sleeping. The neck of her night gown was threatening to slip from her left shoulder. Her snowy hair was loose and, surprisingly, beginning to curl about her face. He found himself absently brushing them back from her forehead. She smiled and her eyes opened.

"I don't want to leave," he told her. "One night, Yue…it's not enough."

Her smile unfurled further and she lightly touched his face. "I know. And you won't have too, not for a while at least."

He gave her a frowning questioning look. She explained.

"One night in the mortal world is worth seven in the Night Temple. When you return to the living realm, you will have been here a week. Every time you return, it will be the same. If you come every day of Crossover, you can be here a total of two-hundred and ten days."

Sokka grinned and leaned in. "Guess I'll be here for a while, huh?"

* * *


	7. Entranced, Dancer, Lan Ying, Seeker

**Disclaimer: ** I own nothing save what is obvious, and with this I am content.

**AN:** Wow, long chapter! Love and thanks to all who reviewed. MormonMaiden, you know which bits of this are for you, so feel free to -squee- at your leisure. Jonnoda, I love your stuff, and I totally get how you feel about shippers. Insane (I-can't-fit-in-all-of-your-name-here), you are a complete sweetie, you really are.

**Also, my dears, do not forget:** when you review, tell me who your fave canon character is, and who your fave original character is (details in my profile). Enjoy!

* * *

**The Night Temple 7**

_It's such a waste to be wasted_

_In the first place_

_I want to taste the taste of_

_Being face to face with common grace_

_To meditate on the warmest dream_

_And when I walk alone I listen_

_To our secret theme_

– Red Hot Chili Peppers, "This Velvet Glove" –

* * *

Entranced

"Is that her?" The question was barely a breath in the air.

Aang smiled, watching the image flicker gently. "Yeah."

He and Toph sat in his quarters, cross-legged, knee to knee, heads bent over Aang's cupped palms. The light from the cradled soul-diamond spun over their faces like dewy cobwebs. Shimmering around the diamond was the image of the soul waiting inside it to be reborn.

She was an Air nomad – not one of the monks or priestesses with their robes and arrow tattoos, but one of the wanderers. Her skin was that light fawn that never faded in winter or darkened in summer. The sweet, round face was surrounded by thick curls several shades darker than those of the Water Tribes.

Her name was Mari and Aang knew that if she had opened her eyes, they would have matched his exactly.

"Priestess Iva says she took me to the Air Temple when I was just one year old. Her and my dad. I have her eyes and his ears."

Toph snickered, those alarming green eyes flashing. Her amusement was infectious, and Aang knew he had big ears. Grinning briefly, he continued.

"I was born three days after Avatar Roku died, so they had to test me just to be sure. Mom must've been real sad when she saw the toys I picked…" He trailed off, face falling.

Toph gave him an uncharacteristically soft look and carefully cupped her hands below his, before looking reverently back at the soul-diamond.

He did the same, but it wasn't long before he glanced away from the image of his mother and watched Toph's face. She was entranced; face more open than the young Avatar had ever seen it. It made him realize, for the first time in a long time, that she was just his age. Just twelve.

In that one moment, Aang saw how utterly human this strange girl was. How easily she could be broken like the rest of them. Her new sight seemed to make her weaker instead of stronger. It distracted her, so that she forgot to wear her rhino-hide exterior. It might confuse her sense with earth-bending as well. She would need looking out for, even if she didn't think so.

'I'll make you so proud, Mom.'

* * *

Dancer

"Oh wow."

Katara stood on a steel mesh platform at the end of a matching ten-foot-runway. Around her there was nothing but ice and snow. The cavernous room had no solid floor, only beautiful frigid water. This was the White Haven, a place visiting or resident water-benders came to flex their bending muscles, spar, or just practice in peace.

"Sometimes," her mother had told her, "they even hold unofficial matches."

"Well," Katara muttered now. "I did ask for a place to practice."

"Practice or spar?" said a voice.

Katara wheeled around to come face to face with the most bizarre Water Tribe girl she had ever laid eyes on. Despite the cold of the room, she was wearing a tunic and half leggings. Not only that; the clothing wasn't blue, but bright turquoise with white trim. Her slender feet were bare and just looking at her made Katara feel shivery. She snuggled further into her parka.

Another oddity was the flowers. She had seen them in only _one_ of the Temple's many gardens, and had been warned by the servals not to touch them. She had asked why and been told they were White Jade, a poison that caused a swelling rash. When the rash reached the victim's throat, they would suffocate. And yet this strange individual wore them woven in her many-braided hair.

The girl suddenly unleashed a breathtakingly sweet smile on her. "Wait, why didn't I see it? You're Katara right? You know, you the spitting image of –"

"My Mom, I know." I was impossible not to return that smile. "But I don't know your name…"

"Oh, sorry." The girl walked down the runway to her, and it was like watching the shadow of the moon move over water. "I'm Chiu, the Temple's Water-born Avatar."

"Oh…so, you're…?"

"Dead, yeah," Chiu answered flippantly. As though dying was one big joke. "White Jade poisoning," she continued, indicating the flowers. "Someone put it in my bedtime tea. Suffocated in my sleep. Woke up here. Go figure, huh?"

"Um, yeah," Katara managed.

"Anyway, practice or spar?"

Both, as it turned out. Sort of. Chiu, as it turned out, didn't really seem that interested in fighting. Instead, she spent a great deal of the time instructing. The problem with this was that despite being of the same bending art, the two differed greatly in style.

Katara was sharp and raging, power-driven. She was a warrior in every sense of the word. Chiu water-bent like she walked. She was a dancer through and through and it showed; she seemed to slip and sway out from under Katara's attacks, all the while launching her own wily offensive and calling out good-natured advice to her opponent.

"Chiu!" Katara exclaimed eventually. "I just don't move like you do! The advice is sound, I just don't know how on earth to apply it. We're too different." She expected the other girl's face to fall, but the ex-Avatar surprised her again.

"Well, that's easily solved," she chirped. "I'll just teach you a new form of water-bending."

"Eh?"

The other girl grinned at her companion's expression, one mixed of confusion and gentle horror.

"It's no big deal," she reassured. "Now, what you need to know, for a kick off, is that my style is different 'cause it's not based so much on battle, but on dancing." She demonstrated a few tip-toeing steps and ended with a flourishing pirouette. "Do you see?"

"Um…"

Chiu smiled kindly and led Katara over to the side of the Haven. With several elaborate hand swats, she smoothed a snow bank into a fourteen-by-fourteen foot mirror and raised a waist-high horizontal bar from its surface.

"Don't worry. I'm going to break this down to basics anyway. Now, put your feet like this, that's it. Shoulders back, knees together…"

* * *

Lan Ying

"You're doing it again."

He didn't respond.

"Seriously, you're doing it again."

More silence.

"Come on, quit it. This is really, really lame."

A small tumble weed rolled across the lawn.

"Okay, that's it."

CRACK.

"Yah!"

It was at that point that Zuko found himself sprawled on his back, his skull pounding and the dirt of her blow still clinging to his forehead.

Lan Ying sat cross-legged before him, a bored half-smirk on her face. The girl unnerved him. She and her bodyguard, Eban, had been tortured and killed in a Fire Nation raid two years before his exile. Lan Ying, it seemed, still held something of a grudge, and took particular pleasure in distracting him whenever she was bored.

"What was that for?" he snapped at her, gingerly sitting up and touching his forehead.

The girl had the look of most earth-benders; stocky. Had she and the Avatar's small friend been the same age, he probably would have said they were related, save that Lan Ying had a slightly hooked nose and darker, narrower eyes. But she wasn't twelve, she was seventeen, or had been when she'd died at any rate. Thus, she had the figure of an adult female. If Zuko hadn't lived in a constant state of bad temper at the very sight of her, he might have been a little distracted.

Or not, because there was always the dangerous possibly that she could squash him with a twitch of her little finger. Like every other female bender he had the misfortune to encounter, Lan Ying was verging on the side of prodigy and had the temper to match. If she hadn't had morals her vindictiveness could have rivaled Azula's. For example…

"You were brooding," she told him blithely. "Brooding is boring."

"I'm not here for you're personal entertainment!"

"Sure you are," she informed his cheerfully. "That's what Crossover is all about; the living hang out with us for a bit to break up the monotony of being…you know, dead."

Zuko ground his teeth. "I was meditating."

"Porkies!" Lan Ying crowed, rocking back and chortling. "I could practically _hear_ you getting moody." She flicked one hand carelessly and a cloud of soil formed a familiar shaped crust over her left eye. "Oh, woe is me," she exhorted, clutching her fists to her chest and dropping her voice an octave. "I'm a poor banished prince with no honour and bad hair, because my homicidal father kicked my spoiled behind out of the nursery and into the real world. Oh _woe_, woe is _meeeeeee_!"

"You're not funny," he told her flatly.

"You're right," she said happily, allowing the dirt to fall from her face. "I'm _hilarious!_"

Zuko groaned and hid his face in his hands. It was going to be a long, _long_ Crossover…

* * *

Seeker

It was Smellerbee who spotted him. Walking home from the evening market, she had caught the tell tale gleam of feline eyes. They watched her, bright and cunning, glinting out of the shadows beneath the local Apothecary's front steps. She unslung the supply sack from her shoulder and crouched beside the worn timbers, beckoning with one outstretched hand.

"Puss, puss, puss…"

She could just make out a large set of black and white ears flipping back and forth, as though the owner were, with each flick, debating. Forward, _will I?_ Back, _won't I? Will I, won't I, will I, won't I?_

Eventually the ears went back and stayed back. But as the medallion eyes winked away, the shadows played out, briefly outlining the cat's face.

It wasn't a cat.

Years of careful mental training allowed Smellerbee not to react. Instead she shrugged, picked up her sack and strode off home. All the while, her heart beat like that of a captive canary.

That night, as the lamp lighters wandered the streets, the former rebel slipped into their apartment block's courtyard.

She was wearing one of Longshot's old shirts, one that had acquired too many undarnable holes, but which she happily used as sleepwear. In one hand she held one of their two lanterns, in the other a bowl of milk.

Setting it down a good ten feet from the back door she surreptitiously studied the miniature jungle of potted plants that spanned the blank western wall. It had expanded so far this season, said their neighbours, that it was threatening to swallow several doorways. No one particularly minded though, and it gave the children a place to amuse themselves. It was quiet now, save for the faint whisper of restless leaves.

Smellerbee smiled, and padded back indoors.

Longshot had watched her leave with the milk, and after initial puzzlement, had put it down to a sudden female urge to make friends with a neighbour's cat. He was almost right.

When she curled up next to him on their shared mattress, she answered his questioning look with a half-smile and a kiss, before firmly closing the conversation by burying her face in his chest. Longshot gave up.

'It's just a cat,' he thought, beginning to doze.

Two hours later, soft rustling and the occasional, muted clink of upset ceramics could be heard outside. Light sleepers both, Smellerbee and Longshot were awake almost immediately; two pairs of dark eyes sliding open and rotating toward the noise, then to each other.

The archer reached behind him for his bow and quiver, his companion for her favourite knives. Soundless, she got to her feet and crept to the door, edging it back in an effort not to rattle the screen. Longshot watched, sitting in a swaddle of blankets, an arrow already knocked.

To his unending surprise, she grinned.

"Come and look."

Curious, he padded over to her and looked. Only his naturally stoic demeanor saved his from giving them both away with a gasp.

There in the courtyard, creeping from between the potted jungle was a child. He couldn't have been more than thirteen. Wearing a plain, rough-spun tunic and shorts, he could have been just another street brat, were it not for the spotted cat ears sprouting from under a mop of brown, each hair tipped with gold. His eyes could just be seen as amber, the dilated pupils glowing like lighted windows.

He stalked forward, those wonderful ears swiveling to every nighttime noise. Assessing the courtyard as safe, he made a beckoning gesture to the plant life. Out of it came three pygmy pumas and a flying lemur.

"That's Momo," Smellerbee breathed. "Aang and the others must be here…"

Their visitors meanwhile had settled around the bowl of milk and were taking turns sipping. The boy didn't seem fussed in the least at sharing with his animal companions. He chuckled, pulled faces and generally joined in with the chittering and purring that passed for conversation among the motley group.

Longshot and Smellerbee were content to watch them, cuddled together beside the door.

But the calm didn't last. The milk only half gone, there came a shout from the street. Momo jumped and let out a startled gurgle. The bowl slipped and crashed onto the pavers.

"Our last bowl!" Smellerbee cried, completely forgetting herself.

Five pairs of luminescent eyes turned to them. They seemed frozen for a split second, then gone quick as thieves into the night. Smellerbee rose and collected the dripping shards. Sighing, she set them in the kitchen basin, to be gotten rid of in the morning, Longshot took her hands. He smiled and kissed her, eyes telling her it was _worth_ a broken bowl.

The next morning, two new bowls sat gleaming in the sun. Beneath them were two glossy black tags of jasmine scented paper, and a matching note.

'_You are late. Friends are waiting for you._

_P.S. Thank you for the milk.'_

* * *

**AN:** review, jammy people, review... 


	8. Yew, Precaution, Tandem, Bara

**Disclaimer:** If I owned the Avatar series, Long Feng would have been disembowled by now. Since this has yet to happen...well, you get the idea.

**AN: **To get this chapter you **need to have read _"The Wolf Bride"_**, the little side story I wrote for _"The Night Temple"_. If you don't you will be confused and in a lot of pain. Mostly because I will have bludgeoned you with a rolled up newspaper.

Many thanks to those who reviewed..._properly_. Enjoy...

* * *

**The Night Temple 8**

_This star I will follow_

_I see freedom_

_Hurry up the winding path_

_Guide me_

_For tomorrow, I'll still need you_

_Though, I know not how to ask_

_Shadows come find me_

_I won't see black_

_Lights will shine from every heart_

– Angelus, "My Heart's Desire" –

* * *

Yew

At the beginning of the world, there came the Avatar Spirit.

Seven-hundred years it moved amongst the peoples of the world. For the latest of these hundreds, the Spirit Bridge sensed trouble. Certain souls refused to leave their homes and families for the spirit world. Still too alive, yet bodiless, they haunted, craving closure and comfort.

Meanwhile, in the centre of the Great Desert, a yew tree had sprung up. The desert spirits were surprised.

"You should not be here!" they cried. "You will get sick and die, little tree. We have not the water to sustain you."

The yew ignored them. It did not need water, only regular hours of shade, and those came every sunset. Up and up it went. The desert spirits watched, amazed.

Then without warning, the yew was found toppled and expired. The spirits sighed and stroked the bark with sympathetic hands. As they did, the trunk cracked open, revealing a newborn spirit.

It was a girl with long black hair like fine velvet, and milky peach-tinted skin. Her eyes opened slowly. The one exposed to the sun showed grey and the shaded one, violet. As she stood, shadows seemed to stretch and flow to clothe her. She smiled at the desert spirits and they smiled back.

Across the world, the Avatar reached out, his mind finally lighting upon hers.

"Greetings, new one. I am the Avatar of All Elements."

"I am Iva, and I have no Element at all, though Darkness cleaves to me."

"You are the Night Daughter, Iva, and thus I give to you a great task…"

And so it was that Iva set out with a group of young desert spirits (who called themselves 'servals') and began gathering up the wandering dead of the world. She wove a great sanctuary and titled it the Night Temple. The dead gathered there, along with many spirits, and were attended by the servals. Iva became high priestess.

Every seven years, rumours would spread about mysterious invitations. Children of various races were found playing together far from their countries' boarders. Masked strangers wandered the street at night, and stunned families spoke of being visited by long dead relatives.

Again and again this happened, and always, they saw _her_.

The violet eyed shadow-bender.

The yew tree girl.

Iva.

* * *

Precaution

He had always been a heavy sleeper. At other times, this might have been something of a drawback, but now, she was grateful.

Watching him, Yue smiled.

He lay sprawled in their shared bed, hair loose, arms flung out. He didn't even twitch when she lit her bedside lamp. Padding into the next room, the moon goddess reflected on her reasons for her actions.

Despite everything, Sokka, this very mortal boy, would not always be hers. Though powerful now, Yue did not have the means – or if she were honest with herself – the right, to keep him here. This meant finding other ways to keep him safe, to ensure his survival…and that of his children.

Because he _would_ have children. Yue knew it. The Kyoshi warrior had the beginnings waiting in her. She was like a she-wolf; strong, intelligent, capable of birthing good strong children. And loving him fiercely. Yue valued that quality above all else.

From the writing desk in her small personal study-cum-library, she took two ink sticks (the water in the vase by her bed would do for mixing), a small porcelain dish for the resulting ink and a brush. Carrying these, she made her way back to the bedroom and settled next to Sokka. It didn't take long to mix the ink, black or silver.

In the manner of hundreds of spirit lovers before her, Yue carefully inscribed two runes upon Sokka's upturned palms. Once in black to seal them, then in silver to give them power and to hide them.

_Moon_ in the left, _blessed_ in the right.

"Just in case," she whispered.

* * *

Tandem

Tranced and entrancing, they spun like wind-captured thistledown, silk spilling over slender legs and about shapely shoulders. Eyes as distant as summer skies, they felt no cold, only the grace of their own fluid bodies, the joys of smooth movements. To them, there was nothing but breath, and dance, and art of their bending.

Water arced in shivering coils overhead, counter pointed by the flurrying orbits of snow and constant morphing of several huge ice mirrors. Weird shapes and dreamy lights moved across their misted surfaces.

On ice pillars about the White Haven, a motley crew of mortal and spirit musicians played the lilting music that so hypnotized Chiu and Katara. The two water-benders moved in haunting sync across the liquid floor of the great room, pointed toes causing only the tiniest of ripples with their contact.

Zuko watched from the steal walkway, eyes half-mast. He was sitting cross-legged, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his right fist. They didn't mind him when they were here, like this.

Unprovoked violence was forbidden within the reach of the Night Temple. Only self-defense was permitted. (When he'd asked what would happen if someone were to commit a violent act, the servals had gone quiet. The one called Maemi had regarded him with those solemn, half-afraid copper eyes. "You go down," she whispered. "Down, into the Ever…everything screams down there." Zuko had left it at that.)

This rendered former enemies essentially harmless for the time being. In many cases Zuko had heard of, this had ended negativities between parties all together. Apparently, the Avatar had heard it too, because now and then when their paths happened to cross – inside and outside of the Temple – he could see the younger boy's eyes shining, oh-so-hopeful and willing to make another friend.

That was what the Avatar wanted to do most in the world – make new friends and have fun with his existing ones. Up close, Aang and his friends were…mind-boggling. They were younger (discounting that particular century, of course) than him, yet they seemed older, somehow wiser, a little more broken and put back together. Sometimes he got the impression there were pieces of them missing, or even new pieces that hadn't been there before. Pieces that still showed; hadn't had their ragged razor edges worn in.

He knew how that felt. Most of the time, he was well aware of his own new and missing pieces. Some of his edges still stung.

It was easier here though. His mother had brought him closure. His cousin had given him perspective. He snorted softly with hushed laughter. Lan Ying had forced humility on him. Her body guard, the great hulking, silent-as-a-tomb Eban, had taught him patience…

…and now Katara and Chiu showed him grace.

Vaguely he wondered, watching Katara perform a particularly elegant bow, how he could have missed it.

* * *

Bara

"I wondered where I'd find you."

Bara opened one burnished-silver eye. Recognizing the white brilliance before him, he let it drop closed again and smiled.

"You again," he murmured. Both eyes slowly unveiled. They shone as mirrors do under a twilight sun.

Yue smiled. "Me," she agreed. "Are the rumours true?"

"You don't mess around, do you, Snow Bones?" he returned, unflinching, and using his odd nickname for her.

"This is serious, Bara," Yue admonished. "Iva was worried. The servals reported and uninvited presence here in the Temple. It was here for an entire night. That gave them seven days to find it…but it was cloaked somehow. And now there are rumours all over the spirit world that you've taken a mortal lover –"

"You're not one to throw stones," he told her sharply. He sat up, dead leaves falling from his grey furred shoulders, massive paws churning the leaf litter. Until he stood at his full height, people often forgot how imposing he was as a wolf. "I heard about your boy." Eyes narrowed, voice dropped to a growl. "And I can smell those marks, Yue. He'll wear them for the rest of his life. How will his wife like that, mmm?"

"You forget yourself, mist spirit," the goddess told him coldly. "Do you really think I would be as cruel as that? They are not a claim, they are a _blessing_. Have you the nose of a mere mundane dog that you cannot tell the difference?"

Bara growled, but let her be.

They sat in tumultuous silence for a while. Yue broke it. There was no time for this, she reasoned.

"Bara," she said again, voice gentle, laying one small hand on the thick fur of one foreleg, "Is it true? Was she here?"

"She was." The distant look on his face was unmistakable, even in this form. Yue had worn it many times. "She was here…"

"So it's true, you have taken a mortal lover?"

"_Lover?_" he laughed softly. "Oh no, Yue, she is not _just_ my lover, she is my _wife_."

Yue stared at him. "_What?_" she breathed.

Again, that smile. "I lured her away with a poem…danced with her in her home-woods…brought her here, fell in love. I bound myself to her, as much as she is bound to me. I breathed the smoking pearl about her throat, wove her wedding dress from the mist we danced through…painted the poem on her skin…" His gaze slide to meet hers. "Wrote the sigils upon her palms…"

"There were reports…a girl in the Earth Kingdom, quite a way from here, who was found asleep in the woods, wrapped in a fur cloak –" Here, Bara smirked. "– she's a healer is she not? An apprentice in a small town?"

"She is."

Yue's voice took on a teasing edge. "Well, does this darling of yours have a name?"

The mist spirit looked dreamily at the floating night sky above.

"Song," he sighed. "She is called Song."

In a corridor not far away, two mortal children eavesdropped. Zuko sat against the wall, his head in his hands. Katara curled beside him, one hand upon his right shoulder, the other absently, instinctively, stroking the unruly mass of his hair. She looked back and forward between the entrance to the garden where the spirits spoke, and the once-prince kneeling defeated before her.

"Oh no," she murmured, remembering the tales Iroh had passed onto her mother. "Oh, Zuko…"

* * *

**AN cont:** Review, jammy people. And remember, tell me who your fave canon and original characters are and why. There is a reason for this, don't worry. 'Til next chap... 


	9. Awareness, Gossip, Instruction, Unrivall

**Disclaimer:** No Avatar ownage for me!

**AN:** Sorry it's so late; I've been on an island without a computer (for the second time) working and semi-recovering from surgery. Yay me. Anyway: getting a little Zuko centric here, but I wanted to show how he's going through change and being intergrated into the rest of the goodguy type characters...and how he and Bara interact. Oooh tension! Oh, and please forgive the fangirl gibe (giggles inanely).

* * *

**The Night Temple 9**

_Lights go out and I can't be saved_

_Tides that I tried to swim against_

_Have pulled me down upon my knees_

_Oh I beg, I beg you please_

_Singing_

_Come out with things unsaid_

_Shoot an apple off my head_

_And a trouble that can't be named_

_Tigers waiting to be tamed_

_Singing…_

– Coldplay, "Clocks" –

* * *

Awareness

Suspecting and knowing, Zuko found, could be thought to induce the same emotional reaction in a person. But in reality, this theory was very, very defunct. Suspecting and knowing did very different things to people, as he himself discovered firsthand.

For example, it was one thing to suspect that his cousin was engaging in almost daily philosophical debates with the much coveted Avatar. This could be accepted without even batting an eyelash. It was quite a punch in the metaphysical guts when he discovered it was true, by walking in on one of the aforementioned debates.

There was Lu Ten on one side of the table, the Avatar on the other, both gesturing energetically, faces transformed with determination, enjoyment and fierce thought. Zuko could only stare, eyes huge in his face. The outraged confrontation with Lu Ten afterwards rendered him even further speechless.

"You do not believe what you are saying," Lu Ten informed him calmly, in response to Zuko's accusations of betrayal, professions of lost honour and aspirations to getting it back. "You cannot seriously mean that after this –" he swept out one arm to encompass the main worship room "– after all this, you will go back out into the world and still wish to rip away the one hope it has for peace. Besides," he added slyly. "I know what you do on Wednesdays in the White Haven."

"Not the _one_ hope in the world," Zuko muttered (rather unconvincingly) as he fled with a small measure of his dignity intact.

Somewhat intact.

* * *

Gossip

"You're a healer," he stated blankly.

"Yes," she answered distractedly, inspecting his Uncle's shoulder.

It had healed, but not as well as it could have. Chiu had informed her and Iva had confirmed that water taken from the alter in the main worship room had similar mystical properties to that of the Spirit Oasis. Katara had lost no time in gathering as much as she was allowed and advancing on Iroh at the tea shop. No patient ever escaped from Katara's capable clutches.

Glancing back at the boy she added, "Doofus."

Zuko scowled. Iroh chuckled.

"Don't mind him," the general told her kindly. "Jin calls him that, too."

Katara grinned when she saw the fire prince flush. "Jin, huh? Figures. She's totally sweet on you, by the way."

"Is not!" he snapped back.

Personally, Katara thought he sounded as though he were not so much trying to convince her, rather than himself.

'Poor bastard,' she thought.

"Is too," responded the green clad figure trooping in. "I haven't even _met_ her and I know she wants a piece of you." Toph, for it was she, leered remarkably well for someone who was blind.

"How did you –?"

"Me and the Old Dragon here have tea on Fridays, both here and at the Temple," she informed them, nonchalantly pulling herself up on the bench beside Iroh. "I like peppermint best. Got a bit of a kick to it." She demonstrated, swinging one small, thick-soled foot.

Zuko ground his teeth at his uncle. Iroh grinned.

"I've told you before: I'm old and fat," he enlightened his irate nephew. "I'm allowed to gossip. Spirits, its practically expected of me!"

Zuko, having become paranoid at a young age, had for a time believed that the Avatar and his friends were all secretly laughing at him. At this point in time, he was temporarily correct.

* * *

Instruction

They met with a flurry of metallic clashes, sparks flying from their respective blades and dancing in their furied eyes. Steel shrieked, attempted to bite and skidded away, only to engage again, this time singing…and again was thwarted.

The two boys backed up, flicking at the edges with twitching muscles, sharp movements and the tail-ends of trickling sweat. Their bare chests heaved gently. Each regarded the other with brightly lit, combat-ridden eyes, faces giving away nothing.

To the west stood Zuko, leaking heat in splinters of wavering air and the occasional wisp of steam. In his hands he held, at the ready, his broadswords. Newly polished, their twin bodies stood gleaming to rival their handler.

To the east stood Sokka, the unseen spirit sigils on his hands whispering unheard things to the atmosphere. Bared before him were his own weapons of choice and creation. They resembled narwhal tusks, but were formed of charcoal coloured steel. Each ridge of the twisted spires had been sharpened into a curling blade, so that any offending weapon was unable to engage, slipping off and away.

They were dangerous, evasive and giving Zuko a serious headache.

Around the two paced the dark, effusive and silently demanding presence of Eban. He noted their stances, their tension. He memorized their tendencies and patterns of movement, and with each one, thought of a way to counter them.

Zuko did not guard enough on his left side, constantly forgetting to make up for his scarred eye's lack of scope. Sokka had a habit of expending energy on wide flung arms and launching overly enthusiastic blows that were inevitably avoided. Zuko was still having difficulty getting past the defensive of Sokka's whal-blades, as they had been dubbed. Sokka was yet to make use of his own strategic mind, relying still on a warrior's instinctive reactions.

"Cease," Eban said softly.

The young warriors cautiously dropped out of their stances and stood watching the former bodyguard.

"Very good," he told them, bowing his bare head, the silver sigil upon his forehead flashing slightly against his earthy skin. "But we have much yet to cover. Be ready to reconvene at the same time tomorrow. You are dismissed."

As they made their way out of the arena, both prince and peasant thought about how they had ended up taking combat lessons from a long dead earth-bender.

It had begun, they supposed, with Eban noticing Sokka's lack of practical education, and Zuko's semi-dependence on his bending whenever he lost his temper. The general idea had been for Sokka to annoy Zuko within an inch of his life during a sparring match. This improved Sokka's skills and creativity with a larger variety of weapons while teaching the young fire-bender patience and control.

The younger female contingent also found it useful, as it meant a free chance to ogle some of their more attractive male counterparts…without their shirts on…sweating. Some of the servals had made a lucrative business selling paper fans to spectators at the sparring matches, until Iva found them out and had them and the girls banned.

"Unless you'd like to join in," she had dared them, arching one jet eyebrow.

This was followed by a great deal of humming, haring and careful slinking away. The boys were thankful for this. It meant they were less likely to be stalked.

Walking side by side down the halls, they began constructively insulting each other.

"You're stance was off."

"You're guard was down."

"You lunge like a beached whale."

"You still can't get past the whal-blades."

"Uncouth brawler."

"Pompous ass."

"Peasant."

"And proud," Sokka finished triumphantly. "Don't you forget it."

They continued in silence for a while. Then…

"Did you here that?"

"Hear what?"

"That…that giggle."

Sokka looked suitably horrified. Disembodied giggling could mean only one thing: the fan-girls were back.

"We're being followed," Zuko said tersely.

"How many d'ya think?"

The prince concentrated, lips pressed together in a fine white line. Sokka began nervously twirling one of his blades. He nearly jumped when his companion exhaled loudly and announced,

"About eight, I think."

"_Eight_? You _think_?" Sokka responded, somewhat hysterically.

Zuko gave him a look. "Shut up, what sort of warrior are you? We can get out of this…we just have to run as fast as we can and hope they trip over their skirts or something."

The water tribesman gave him a disgusted look. "Hope they trip up or something. What kind of strategist are you?"

Zuko ground his teeth. "What do you suggest?"

Sokka looked thoughtful for a moment, stroking his chin. Finally he replied.

"When we make our escape," he told the prince. "We should zigzag. They won't just trip over their skirts, they'll get tangled."

"And they won't be able to get up again, to rejoin the chase."

"Not for a while anyway."

"Good. Right. Okay. On my mark…ready…set….flee! Flee, damnit, flee!"

"I'm fleeing, I'm fleeing," Sokka howled back.

Behind them there was a wave of exultant shrieking and the roar of many slipper-clad feet. Zuko had been wrong; there were far more than eight.

As the bevy of hormone and hysteria driven females took off in hot pursuit down the corridor, three calmly smiling figures emerged from the shadows.

"Well, that was refreshing," Toph said pleasantly.

Katara grinned. "I see you're 'refreshing' and raise you a 'feeling of deep-seated satisfaction'."

Lan Ying sighed with contentment and looped her arms through those of her companions. "I'm so glad you guys came this Crossover. It's been ages since I got to pull off such a good prank."

Toph laughed, and Katara bent three globes of fizzing cordial from the bottle in her satchel, offering them to the other girls. Lan Ying and Toph bent crystal goblets from the studded floor and accepted.

Eyes alight, Katara proposed a toast. "To the mobbing of unsuspecting, ego-centric males!"

"Cheers!"

* * *

Unrivalled

Spirits are dangerous, no matter who or what they are. It is a lesson taught to all children as soon as they are able to learn it, for the Spirit World is very real, and its denizens capable of wreaking great havoc.

Zuko knew this. Had known it for a long time. He knew it very well now, considering he walked among said denizens on a regular basis these days. He knew about the Hei Bai Aang had placated. He knew about Koh, the face-stealer. He knew about Wan Shi Tong, the Great Owl who so fiercely protected the Library. He had heard of the goddess Yue, the new personification of the moon spirit, Tui. He had seen the ocean spirit La laying waste to the armies of the Fire Nation.

And now, he knew of Bara, the Mist Walker, the grey wolf man…

…husband of Song.

Zuko watched now, as the spirit glided down the hall, his massive paws lost in the glowing mist that covered the floor. The razor like nails made soft clicks on the rosewood and jade panels. His coat was the colour of pewter and unburnished iron, each hair standing in bright relief to the cold air that followed him. Out of those near somnolent movements his eyes shone; nothing-centered coins of the finest silver…

As he past the small group of teens, he did not flinch, did not turn. Not until a few foot steps separated them, however, when the once-prince's burning gaze was focused on his perceived, unrivalled rival. For a few moments, the Mist Walker paused, casting those terrible reflecting eyes back to meet Zuko's. Some iota of recognition winked there, accompanied by perception and half-conceived suspicion. In an instant he was no longer a giant wolf, but a man in dark hunter's garb, the stylized canine mask resting at his hip and a dark metalled ninja star cradled loosely in either hand.

A warning.

_You have lost this fight. Be gone, whelp._

Zuko felt a small hand tighten on his forearm. Lan Ying added her own warning in the form of a telling glare.

_Do it, and I'll beat whatever snot is left in you when he's finished._

Sokka's face didn't so much warn as insult.

_Idiot._

But that was to be expected.

It was Aang and Katara who stopped him, in the end.

They stood together, framing Toph, who leant sleepily against the young Avatar, and regarding him with calm faces. Aang, ever the abhorrer of violence, silently conveyed his wish for peace, and that Zuko should remain in one piece. Katara's expression showed faint worry, but acknowledged that he would do whatever he pleased. It was she who finally voice what they were all thinking at him.

"Don't," she said softly.

Turning and leading the others away, Zuko didn't…

* * *

AN cont: Oh look! A 'review' button! If I have to be more obvious, I'm getting me a cattle prod. 


	10. Medicinal, Plan, Retrieval, Return

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Don't sue. Golly what a basic concept!

**AN:** Sorry it's so late, but I have a job (yay) and dial-up net access (whoop-whoop). Hope this isn't too bang-up. Have fun, and review.

* * *

**The Night Temple 10**

_I never made promises lightly_

_And there have been some that I've broken_

_But I swear in the days still left_

_We'll walk in fields of gold_

_We'll walk in fields of gold_

– Sting, "Fields of Gold" –

* * *

Medicinal

Katara was unnerved.

Never had she seen her mother so solemn, not since her father left for war. And Chiu didn't seem to have had a solemn moment in her entire life.

But here they were, watching her with grave, gravity-laden faces. The former Avatar shook her head as Katara sat before them, attempting to get comfortable in the somber atmosphere permeating Chiu's quarters.

"This is something I never hoped to have to pass on, Kita," she murmured, addressing Katara's mother. "This knowledge, these techniques…both of you must realize how dangerous it is for Katara to learn this, to take it outside of the Temple."

Kita nodded, but Katara looked back and forth between the two. "I don't understand," she said, frowning. "I thought I was just going to learn different battle techniques. Chiu, you're talking as though you're going to send me out with a life-threatening secret…oh _no_." She glared accusingly at the other women. "You _are_, aren't you?"

Chiu looked at once guilty and mournful. "This is something that could turn the tide of the war, Katara. A series of deadly techniques now lost to your generations. Even as far back as the birth of the current Avatar, the likes of these were not seen. I was taught it in an effort to keep me safe; to give me a second measure of defense against those who would harm me. But one can't perform water-bending while dying in one's sleep," she finished, a little bitterly.

Katara was still frowning. "But…how do they differ from normal water-bending?"

"You know that water-benders are sometimes healers?"

"Well, yeah."

"This is the defensive bending taught to healers, eons ago, to defend themselves on battlefields. It's a cross between healing and attacking." Suddenly, Chiu didn't want to meet her eyes. "It…it works by manipulating the water in a person's body; in the tiny, unseen units that make up a person's flesh."

"But, that would mean that I could…oh spirits." The possibilities clamoured about her like vengeful crows, dark and shimmering and vicious.

_(fill their lungs with water, drown them on dry land…freeze their muscles, watch the frostbite burn like white fire…icy spines in the brain, as deadly as an arrow through the eye…let the sweat on their necks cling and choke them like tiny serpents…oh no, no, no…)_

Chiu was there beside her, speaking softly, holding her hands and gently rubbing her back. "You understand then?"

"Oh yes." Moments later. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"No," Kita murmured. "Just breathe, sweetheart, it will pass."

"Oh Mom, how can you ask this of me?"

Her mother hugged her. "I don't," she sighed. "If it were up to me you would be at home now, learning new ways to braid you hair and telling off your brother for leaving his laundry all over the floor. But we don't have the option of ignorancy right now. You have the opportunity to learn something that will make you powerful; powerful enough to turn the tides, literally, against the violence of the Fire Nation army." She put her thumb under her daughter's chin, forcing the girl to meet her eyes. "This is a path that you can walk, my darling, but neither I nor Chiu will force you."

Katara looked away, biting her lip…

_(the possibilities…dangerous deadly whispers…and a word, a word that had not been used for her kind in centuries…Drowner…hissed by the wary through superstitious teeth, accompanied by a desperate working of hands that carved the air with wardings against ill-fortune. This will make you a crow of bad luck and ugly death, little bender…little Drowner…)_

…and then looked back.

"I know," she whispered. "And I know what I have to do. Chiu," she said, turning to her friend.

"Yes, Katara?"

"I'm ready; teach me."

* * *

Plan

They had been there for the past two hours, debating and arranging, weighing pros and con's, wishing and hoping and wondering. Schematics of the Dai Li base outside of Ba Sing Se lay spread haphazardly across the table, along with serval intelligence reports.

The crown jewel of this information cornucopia was a simply wrought ear-stud. The unassuming gemstone set into its front winked in the light of the wavering lamps. Iva's ever-present shadows seemed to crawl over its surfaces, making the warm gold appear near black. Sometimes they would fork outwards, giving the trinket the temporary guise of a spider, or some other half-malignant insect.

Aang couldn't take his shining grey eyes from it.

_I see Appa…_ it whispered to him. _Follow me, follow my lovely silver lines, follow the webs of me to your beloved bison…oh, follow me, little man, follow me…_

From outside the big double doors, there was the sound of rushing feet and hushed voices. "Quickly quiet!" the servals would be warning. "Her Darkness is in session with Avatar! Hush, hush, don't rush!"

"Finally," the priestess said, voice carrying across the meeting room.

Aang's head came up in surprise. At the other end of the room, the double doors were _opening_.

"I thought everyone was here who was supposed to be," Katara said, looking as puzzled as her companions felt.

"Not quite," said a familiar rasp.

Disbelieving eyes took in the sight of two worse-for-wear ex rebels, surrounded but a serval escort.

"Smellerbee?" Sokka blurted. "Longshot? What – how – _eh?_"

Smellerbee shuffled, uncharacteristically abashed. "We came to apologize," she murmured, regarding the carpet. "And to offer ourselves as back up. Ro's told us what you plan to do."

Stunned silence rained for several minutes. Then, inevitably…

"What about Jet?" Sokka asked harshly.

"He isn't an issue."

All eyes swung to Katara, who sat hunched in on herself, eyes closed, face a mask of grief. "He – he's in the City too, but…the Dai Li have done something to him. He got into trouble with them, stirring up stuff about the war."

"It's true," Iroh sighed, taking the head-bowing pressure of their gazes from the young water-bender. "He found out we were fire-benders – my fault – and wouldn't leave it alone. He attacked Zuko in the tea shop, and they took him away."

"Jin, a girl whose family runs a vegetable stand, found him a week later," Katara continued, picking up the tale. She looked up, met Smellerbee's dewy eyes. "He's not himself. It's like they've taken what makes him Jet – all the rage, the hate, the grief, the charm, even his smile – and wiped it away." Her fists clenched in her lap. "They've made him a _shell_."

The silence pressed unseen fingers to the lips of the meeting room's occupants. Crying, shaking, maddened voices filled their heads. In the mind of Sokka, one voice roared above the rest.

"Wait…" he began. "I'm having an idea." He squinted crazily with one eye and stared with the other. Aang privately thought he looked like Bumi. Maybe their was hope, then

"You said that Jet got taken by the Dai Li…" The tribesman gave his companions a loaded look. "Now, which secret compound are we trying to sneak into…?"

"But Katara said –"

"We can't afford to think like that," Aang interrupted. "We have to have some sort of hope. In order to do that…"

"We have to get Jet back." Taking on the stares of the room, Zuko looked up. His eyes burned the colour of dying coals. Crimson, bloodied fire…

"We have to get him back…"

* * *

Retrieval

"When did we become friends?"

Aang gave him a quizzical look. Zuko sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's not a difficult question, Aang."

"Is too," Toph muttered from her position beside the Avatar. She sat with her legs tucked up to her chest, brilliant eyes peering angrily at the marble floor. Aang put one arm around her.

Sokka spoke up from behind his punching bag. "She's just cheesed off she's not gonna be able to see the look on Long Feng's face when we snatch Appa right out from under his snotty –" _whumph_ "– stuck-up –" _crump_ "– high and mighty –" _wa-**rrrip**_ "– dictatoring nose. OW!"

The punching back had hit the floor in a heap of ragged sacking and sand, and Toph had kicked Sokka. "Don't rub it in," she growled.

Aang grinned but turned back to Zuko, shrugging. "I dunno when we started being friends. I guess…well, me and Lu Ten talked. You came along sometimes…"

"And you had tea with me and the Old Dragon on Fridays."

"And you and I started beating the crap out of each other on a regular basis."

"Sokka, it's called sparring."

The other boy grinned. "Whatever, it's still a legitimate reason for me to beat you up."

Katara smiled. "And you come and watch me and Chiu dance sometimes. We never minded."

Zuko hung his head to keep from blushing. "S'pose," he muttered. Had they always been this nice, this comfortable? Had he always been a big enough idiot not to get in on a good thing? How may chances had they given him in the past? Why had he only taken this one?

The answers were stemmed by the arrival of a serval. It was Ro. "It's time," he told them. "The sun is just rising over Ba Sing Se. The market will start in exactly one hour. We can only help you a little, but we can help."

Sokka, unofficial leader that he was, nodded. "We'll meet you out there with the others. And thanks, Ro."

The serval bowed and left.

Sighs were heaved, weapons tucked away and silent prayers sent to whichever deity would listen.

"Well, boys and girls," Toph muttered later as they stood beneath the Starred Arch. "This is it…"

* * *

Return

In the musty back room of a vegetable shop, four teenagers stood around an eighth who lay unconscious on a mattress. His once-again wild hair stood out at all angles, and his breathing rasped softly between parted lips. Around him were a boy with twin broadswords, another with a boomerang and machete, a girl wearing a bandana and mish-mashed armour.

"Zuko, was it really necessary to hit him that hard?" Sokka asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes," his companion snapped back, startling the girls. "Why?"

"No reason," Sokka said quickly. "It's just that if you hadn't knocked him out I could have gotten a few good swings in."

"_Sokka_," Katara threatened. She was kneeling beside the fallen boy's head, a teardrop of luminescent water coating each of her fingertips. Smellerbee looked on anxiously.

There was the sound of footsteps outside, and the door slid back. Longshot and Toph entered.

"Jin wants to know how long we'll be. She can only manage the stall for so long. She needs someone to help her move the crates and stuff," Toph informed them.

Without a word, Zuko unslung his swords, handed them to Sokka and went back out to the front of the shop. "She knows me," he said, by way of explanation. Katara watched him go, then looked back at her patient.

Sokka crouched beside her. "Are you sure you can do this?" he murmured.

She nodded, but didn't look at him. "Chiu showed me. It has to do with healing certain sections of the brain." When she met his gaze it was with awe and fear. "Isn't it horrible," she whispered. "How easily we can alter a person's reality?"

He gave her a rueful grin and laid one hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't call what you're about to do easy, Kata…"

"But I'm new to this. If Chiu had lived…the power she could have wielded…"

"It's probably why she was murdered."

Katara nodded. "It is. She told me." The young water-bender squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm doing this."

Sokka backed off, but stood with his machete at the ready. "Take your time."

That was the last thing Katara heard. The world narrowed, spun out, lit up and exploded. To her, it seemed as though the water in her hands overtook her vision, her hearing…swiftly consuming each of her senses.

As it did, Jet turned his face to hers and opened his eyes. Then the water took him too, and they were swept away…

It was a corridor. They were underground, and the walls were studded with points of green light. Jet was beside her. He turned to look at her, dark eyes like fathomless openings.

"It happened here," he whispered. "They smuggled me away, broke me into pieces, and threw away the bits they didn't like."

Katara took his hand, squeezed it gently. "Show me," she whispered back.

They were in a lightless room, and then there was a yellow lantern, turning and turning. In this lurid atmosphere, Jet sobbed and screamed as his mind was taken apart and remade.

Katara smiled, ignited her own lights, and fought back the Dai Li poisons. "There," she crooned, rubbing his arm. "Look, I've found the lost pieces. Now let's find a place to stitch them back together."

They staggered back down the corridor. Up and up and out and _out_…

They stood before a lake… "Lake Laogai," Jet told her. "It's all down _there_. Down in the earth." He shuddered.

"_Lake Laogai_," Katara memorized, then led away her patient and began the long process of puzzling his brain back into place.

* * *

**AN cont:** Review. I'm deprived. Luuuuuurve meeeeeeeeee! 


	11. Awry, Scare, Debt, End

**Disclaimer:** Do I _really_ have to say it again, children...?

**AN:** Another installment! Aren't you all spoilt. Hope you like it, even if it is a little pieced together. Love-loves to all who reviewed, you make my little heart go ba-dump-ba-dump!

**WARNING:**** CONTAINS GORE! **

* * *

**The Night Temple 11**

_I'm the trouble starter_

_Punking instigator_

_I'm the fear addicted_

_And danger illustrated_

_I'm a fire starter_

_Twisted fire starter_

– Prodigy, "Fire Starter" –

* * *

Awry

Of all the things that could have gone wrong, this was a show stopper.

"How touching," Long Feng announced, striding towards them. "The Avatar, reunited with his old friend at long last."

Deep beneath Lake Laogai, just as Jet had told them, they had found Appa (and more about the Dai Li than they had ever cared to know). It was here that they made the unnatural females known as Joo Dee. It was here that they ripped away the minds of those who stirred up their precious peace. It was here that they had had the audacity to secret away the spirit beast of the Avatar himself.

Silently watching the man walking towards them, Aang knew in his bones there would be retribution.

'But it will not come from me,' he realized. Something slunk on the edge of his vision. It was hard to breathe for a second. The shadows were darker than they should be. Copper eyes and two inch long claws glinted from their depths.

And only he could see them.

Without warning, the creeping crystals that lit the room shattered and went dark. They fled amongst the alarmed yelling of the Dai Li, brushing dangerously close to their bodies, feeling fear and adrenaline braid their insides.

But it was only minutes later, as they crouched panting in an abandoned tunnel that Katara looked around and whispered…

"Guys, where's Zuko?"

* * *

Scare

Zuko tore around a corner and froze.

Before him was shadow, darkness impenetrable. But there were sounds; wet ripping, tearing sounds. Soft snarls and giggles, the scraping of claw and bone on damp soil.

But that wasn't the terrifying half of it.

Because there was Maemi – dear, sweet Maemi – sitting cross-legged, the dark of the tunnel mouth stroking her rounded shoulders, painting strange shapes on her button-nosed face. Her hair was wild and tangled, glinting slightly red. There were smears of something on her face…

Zuko lifted his mask and watched, hypnotized, as the kitten-girl licked the blood from her fingers in tiny, meticulous movements.

It was only then that he noticed the man's hand just behind her, disappearing at the wrist into the black unknown…though it jerked slightly, every so often, followed by feline growling and the flash of inhuman eyes.

He choked, very softly, but those keen spotted ears swivelled to him. Slit-pupiled, copper orbs regarded him curiously. The whites of her eyes had been completely swallowed by the burnished irises.

"Prince Zuko," she breathed, smiling. It was a mercy her teeth weren't red-tinged. "We found the men chasing Aang and Appa. Isn't that wonderful?"

The boy forced himself to smile back and nod. Slowly he backed away, and Maemi gave him that heart-rending look the entire time. Even as he gave her a small wave, then dashed back the way he had come.

Dai Li be damned, there was no way he was sticking around to watch _that_.

* * *

Debt

There were seven of them, and ordinarily Zuko might have had a chance against them. But the overriding fact was, he was in a rather cramped tunnel made of earth, miles below the surface, facing a phalanx of highly trained _earth-benders_. He could make sure it would not be a quick or easy fight, and that when he fell he would take at least some of them with him…but he would, eventually, fall.

Sighing, he took his stance and watched for the beginnings of the onslaught.

"You don't have to fight us," one officer murmured from beneath the brim of his hat. "Come quietly and it will be easier for you."

'It doesn't matter anymore,' the prince thought. 'They won't know who I am 'til its too late. I'll provoke them; make sure they never know who I am.' He pushed back visions of boulders and earth crushing what was left of his face and rasped out, "never!"

"As you wish –"

From behind the Dai Li came one of the most frightening sounds on the face of the planet. It began as a low smooth note, one that ran dark fingers along the inside of your skull. Next came the rising pitch, the lonely cry that personified the shape of the moon, and ended in a chest-shaking snarl.

It was then that the tunnel began to fill with thick, platinum mist.

"How?" whispered one of the officers.

Between Zuko and the Dai Li exploded Bara, wolf-shaped, a creature of pewter and rage. His ivory teeth flashed in the meagre light, his eyes glowing, vicious circles of silver. The inside of his mouth was the colour of spilled blood.

The Dai Li bolted screaming, while Zuko stood frozen in shock.

Slowly, the spirit turned, facing the teenager. The prince flashed back on that day in the Temple, when they had passed each other in the corridor. Those eyes pierced him, like cold needles in his temples, examining his heartstrings. He realized what it meant. Bara had saved him, opened up the way for him to escape.

The mist rose, swirled, and for a moment Bara was a man again, holding his hollow-eyed mask before him. Zuko took the hint and lifted his own. They regarded each other face to face…and Bara nodded. Zuko nodded back, acknowledged.

The Fire Prince owed the Mist-Walker a life debt.

Once more canine, Bara took of down the tunnel, leading the way with his glowing pelt. As Zuko followed he cursed himself six ways from Sunday. But quietly. Who knew how good spirit/wolf hearing was…

* * *

End

Zuko and his guide arrived just in time to witness Iva defy spirit law. His soldiers immobilized by their own shadows, Long Feng was completely on his own.

He watched the shadows crawl to the other man, stretching with the spine-touching sound of plucked bow strings.

"This is your end, Long Feng," the priestess intoned.

Katara squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his shoulder. Zuko unthinkingly put his arms around her.

But even as the screaming began, he could not look away.

* * *

**AN cont:** Review, and when you do, tell me where y'all are from. I wanna know how far around the world this fic is going. Kiss-kiss! 


	12. Trial, Melancholic, Awake, Balance

**Disclaimer:** I can't have everything I want. (And neither can you, haha!)

**AN:** Wow, sorry bout the wait guys. I've been working (still) sorting out University enrollments and working on my originals. This chapter's a little bittersweet, but hey, medicine and sugar's always been the way to go. Have fun.

* * *

**The Night Temple 12**

_Recall the deeds as if  
They're all someone else's  
Atrocious stories   
Now you stand reborn before us all  
So glad to see you well_

– A Perfect Circle, "The Noose" –

* * *

Trial

To the west stood Agni. Appearing as a young man in his prime, his hair was red and black flame, flowing from his uncovered head. His skin was the pale amber of the horizon at sunrise. His eyes shone; orbs of solid white sunlight, so bright that delicate mortals might go blind from looking into them. It was said that only the sight of a fire-bender might survive the gaze of their god. Garbed in ancient warrior's robes of red and patterned with black and white flames, he wore three swords – a ceremonial katana, one each for the daily birth, life and death of the sun.

He was the first to speak at the spirit trial of Iva Night Daughter, and when he did; his voice was more beautiful than every sunset in history.

"We are here to judge you, Night Daughter, as your peers and fellow spirits. This is fair and just, and so goes without question. I attend as the spirit of Fire and the West."

To the north stood Yue Tui. A creature of white radiance and snowy softness, her tawny skin was flawless as the purest terracotta, showing vividly against the clear light of her eyes and pearlescent clothing. Her hair – dressed with tiny blue gems – was shadowed only by the Veil of the New Moon, which lay in a thin fall of translucent darkness down her spine. She was the epitome of sadness.

"I agree with the spoken words of Agni. I attend as the spirit of the Moon and the North."

La rose suddenly, ascending in a cloud of jet water from the sphere of the earth below. He was as dark as his fellows were bright, fathomless eyes winking in the rampant starlight. His garb was made up of black and blue furs, his night-coloured hair dressed as a chieftain's with eagle feathers and bear teeth. Twin whaling spears hung at his back. Across his angular dusky face, tiny dark blue fish scales lay in the patterns of war paint. When he spoke, it was with the depth and weight of all the world's oceans.

"I agree, too, agree with the spoken words of Agni. I attend as the spirit of Water and the South."

There was another ascension, this time of Oma. Her dark hair swirled about her, in sharp relief with the holly berries and leaves woven through it. Orbiting her elegant frame were other berries, leaves, stones and small balls of earth. She wore a flowing kimono of earthy red, patterned with forest scenes in varying greens. Behind and above her crouched the transparent shade of a badger-mole. His eyes shone the same blinding green as Oma's, and his movements followed hers.

She spoke softly, but the earth was in her voice, filled with earthquakes and growing things.

"I agree with the spoken words of Agni. I attend as the spirit of Earth and the East. As the last to arise, I ask: who shall be the Centre? Who shall be the balance at the trial of Iva Night Daughter?"

There was silence. Iva, clothed in the dark spaces between the stars, closed her violet eyes, hope fading.

Then…

"_**I will."**_

The voice was everywhere at once. In one's ears and their bones. In their mouths and eyes, in their souls.

It was the many-layered voice of the Avatar Spirit.

The other spirits let out cries of surprise. Iva whispered, "Oh Aang…" and saw Yue doing the same.

Watching the star-eyed being before them all, Agni spoke again with reverence and awe. "Welcome, Avatar. We may now begin."

* * *

Melancholic

Zuko found her in the main worship room, curled in one of the shrine alcoves. The shrine was a Fire Nation one, oddly enough. Dragons spiralled across its curved walls, backs lined with flames, eyes strangely hooded and set with glinting gemstones. A small grate was set into the alter, and a fire burnt there, warming the air. He noticed the way it gilded the girl's hair and skin, and was reflected in her glazed blue eyes.

She was in her dancing clothes; a white shift cinched at the waist and fine silk slippers whose laces wound from ankle to knee. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, her face half hidden in her folded arms. Her hair was unbound and messy, her cheeks pink, probably from the strange flush that crying often brings on.

At her feet were a glass of water and a basket of sweetmeats, untouched. He suspected one of the servals had brought them out of concern. Best not to think of servals though (_how was he ever going to face Maemi and Ro again…?_)

"Katara?"

She looked up at him, haunted and wide-eyed. "Zuko?"

"Yeah." He sat facing her, legs crossed, palms to his knees. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. No." Her face tensed suddenly. "What Iva did…"

"She did to save us."

"She's not human."

"Well, no, but –"

"Neither am I, not now, not with what I can do…I can do worse than Iva, with what I know, Zuko."

He gave her a look of bewilderment and surprise. In a bout of unusual insight, he saw to the heart of the issue.

Giving her a stern look he said, "You're not a monster, Katara. Killing doesn't make a person a monster. Its wrong, that's true, but Iva did it to save us. It was self-defence, or at least defence of those who couldn't sufficiently defend themselves."

She shook her head, almost frantically. "Oh no." He was taken completely but surprise when her expression became harsh, disturbed. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," she breathed.

He, unthinkingly, responded in kind. "You have no idea what _I'm_ capable of."

"No!" she spat harshly. Before he could blink, her hand was moving, ratcheting in a strange jarring movements.

The water from the glass formed a fist that shoved him squarely in the chest. She was leaning over him, hand contorting, snarling. The ice was at his throat, needles of it threatening to pierce his jugular, his windpipe. He made a soft choking noise. There was something else; tiny blades forming inside his throat, from the very fluids of his body. On her command, they could virtually behead him.

"You have no idea what I am capable of doing, what I know – _what I am_!"

Yet somehow – _somehow_ – he showed no fear, his eyes never leaving hers. One hand rose slowly, touched her cheek. Ever so softly he rasped, "Katara…it'll be okay."

"You can't promise that."

"I know. I'm not. No promises."

_(So stupid; it was a promise in itself…)_

She shuddered, abruptly falling apart in front of him. Her eyes slid closed, features racked with inner pain. It was eating her up, he realized. She was a loving person, a moral idealist. Caring and putting other's wellbeing before her own was second nature to her. That she now had the power to kill like this, to turn a person's very body against them; it was a betrayal of her character.

"Drowner," she whispered. The ice melted, fell away.

Shivering and weeping, she folded into his arms, suddenly just a slip of a girl in a white dress. Zuko held her, comforting her as she had him, all those weeks ago.

'_What have they done to you…?'_ he thought.

* * *

Awake

When he came back to himself, he didn't realize it. The world was too strange to be real. Perhaps it was a fever dream. A wishful delusion. What else could it be, with Smellerbee sitting opposite him, watching him with dark hopeless eyes? He could see Longshot beyond her, standing at an open doorway, looking out at a garden with his back to them. His bow and her knives lay carelessly on a low table against the western wall.

"Can't be real," he whispered.

The next second he was reeling as Smells threw herself at him, weeping and laughing and saying, "You're back, you're you! You're you again! Longshot he's back! Jet's back!" Then Longshot was embracing both of them, and everyone was crying at once.

'_Couldn't be real,'_ he thought distantly. Not with those strange children watching them, their catty ears laid back in surprise. Not with people he knew to be dead smiling at them (_Mom, Dad…how?_), markings of ash making swirling flames on their limbs and masking their bright eyes. Not with him, with his mind intact.

It couldn't be real, but it _was_, and now, that was all that mattered. He knew who to thank.

'_Katara, wherever you are, thank you.'_

* * *

Balance

"Iva Night Daughter is hereby released, by judgement of her peers. The Avatar speaks true, Shadow-bender. You're actions were for the sake of the Balance of the mortal world. They will ring and ripple for generations of their lives, and aid in the restoration of the world. Go well, and go in peace all."

With those words, the spirits spun apart, returning to their dwellings from the outreach of space. Yue Tui soared back to the moon, Agni to the sun. La and Oma dropped soundlessly back to earth. The Avatar lingered for a moment, then flung himself wide, to the unfindable place where his body lay.

The Night Temple was beginning to feel like home.

When he opened his eyes, Toph was peering at him anxiously. Seeing he was back, she assumed her customary smirk and cuffed him gently. "Did you win?"

He grinned.

His small companion let out a whoop, punched the air then nearly strangled him with an impromptu hug. Over the earth-bender's shoulder, he spied the Night Daughter herself. Half engulfed in shadows, her eyes fairly glowed. He continued to grin, and she smiled back, relief in every feature.

There were no words either of them could have used, but they were all here, all safe.

For now, this would be enough.

* * *

**AN cont.:** This time, try and guess where _I'm_ from. Jonnoda, MM, I figure you guys already know, so no cheating! Lol, anyway, review! 


	13. Era, Suki, Sunday, Shield

**Disclaimer:** If you think I own any of it, you are dysfunctional beyond words.

**AN: **Omigod, you must all hate me beyond words. It's been an absolute age since I updated. Again, I'm going to pull out the Uni excuse (sorry!). Anyway, my muse (often hateful creature that she is) pretty much dragged this out of me - and oh my GOD a moth just landed in my tea. Sweet merciful Lord, is nothing sacred? Gotta go get fuzzy nocturnal bug out of my drink. Enjoy, guys.

* * *

**The Night Temple 13**

_Story of a woman_

_On the morning of a war_

_Tell me if you will_

_Exactly what we're fighting for…_

– Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Easily" –

* * *

Era

Time was running out. Black Sun was coming. Sokka stood before the Earth King and regarded, with covert, critical eyes, the delicate, eccentric man the Dai Li had sort to closet from the world. He reminded him of Aang, but without the dark spots in his expression; those little signs that showed whenever Aang remembered places without sunshine and family.

Innocent. Naïve. Dangerously so.

He would need protection, Sokka realized, and careful guidance. Despite his own abilities of manipulation and cunning, the young man swore that he would no become the Dai Li; this King would know the truth, and all of the truth that could be found. He was a man of true morals, something his city was in dire need of. For now, however, it would be enough to give him the realities of the world, the war, and let him make of it what he would.

"Your Majesty," Sokka announced, stepping from Iva's well placed shadows. "I believe its time you and I had a chat."

The poor man was so startled, but who wouldn't, seeing a fifteen year old water tribe boy step out of nowhere in his private chambers.

"Who are you?" he blustered, unable to cover his surprise.

"Sokka, of the Southern Water Tribe, and a good friend of the Avatar."

That got his attention.

"Your Majesty, you may not like hearing this, but my country and yours have been at war for the better part of one hundred years…"

And so it began. The great unveiling, the beginning of the end. The crumbling of the old era.

The journey towards Black Sun.

* * *

Suki

In the dark of a nighttime forest, the Kyoshi Warriors lay broken but healing.

Scattered, angered, they gathered the leftover pieces of their uniforms back together, and immediately began sharpening their fans. Only one of their number could not be found.

Suki was no where to be seen. For seven days and nights they searched for her.

On the seventh dawn, they found her still reeling in the throes of a fever, half-naked and savage into the bargain. The Fire Nation Princess had beaten her, left her for dead and stolen her uniform.

Suki woke three days later in the local healer's house, ravenous and thirsting for revenge, though she kept the latter to herself.

In her gut, she knew there would be a time. War was coming, she could feel it. Fire would meet earth head on, and something would have to give…something would have to break.

Suki vowed it wouldn't be her.

'_Just you wait,'_ she thought, visualizing Azula's face and how many different ways she could tear it apart. _'Just you wait. You'll get yours, Princess. I swear it.'_

* * *

Sunday

Aang knew he was there. His expanding senses traced the outline of that familiar presence and gave it a name.

Gyatso.

They didn't speak for a while. They sat instead, basking in each others existence, the way old friends do when they meet after a prolonged separation.

"Things will be coming to a head soon, Aang," the monk finally murmured into the morning air. "I will not lie. I worry for you."

Simultaneously, they opened their grey eyes, and regarded each other. Aang smiled.

"I'll be okay." All his boyishness, his carefree wishes, his outlandish exuberance went into that reply. It was a wonderful sunny distillation of being pre-adolescent and feeling immortal.

Gyatso sighed and smiled back. "Of course you will."

Sitting upon the roof of the Temple's highest pagoda, monk and novice faced the east, and watched the sun rise.

* * *

Shield

Zuko couldn't sing, but thanks to his uncle, was reasonable on the guitar. One soft, lilting lullaby later, and Katara was a puddle of white silk and chestnut hair curled in the centre of his bed. His bed, because he didn't know where her quarters in the Temple were. He could have asked, he supposed, but she'd been tired and still periodically muttering disturbing things under her breath. To ask – it just seemed a little…rude.

Still strumming, he watched her sleep. She'd had one nightmare so far. The first sign had been twitching fingers, then the glass of water on the bedside table flinging itself sideways. Next thing he knew the bonsai tree on his desk was suffering from severe frostbite and the water-bender was clinging to his arm, gasping about ill-luck and black water.

The music helped though.

He supposed it was why he never heard Bara come into the room.

Zuko didn't turn round, merely paused in his playing and listened to the sound of paw pads becoming hunting boots.

"We have a deal."

For three aching seconds, he hated the patience in that rolling voice.

"I know," he rasped back. "What do you want?"

"An honest answer." The Mist-Walker regarded the sleeping girl. "You care for her the way you cared for Song." A statement, inarguable, though Zuko tried.

"I still care for Song –"

"Out of guilt. You forget, she is strong. She does not need you now. This one, however…"

Zuko did what he did best, and scowled. "She's a friend."

A low, rich laugh filled the room, and he felt the guitar strings dance gently in sympathy.

"More than that, Prince," chuckled Bara. "Or she will be. In any case…this is how I will call my debt. Forget Song; she is mine. Think of your little dancer. Bring her back from the brink. It will be good for both of you –"

'_That's it?'_ the boy thought. He was getting off lightly…

"– and Prince?"

'_Curses…!'_

Zuko found he had to turn then, to meet those terrible silver eyes. They shone and chilled him. Harder than steel, sharper than broken mirrors.

"Meddle not in my affairs, Prince, now or ever, unless invited." With that he was a wolf again, lopping in a stream of mist and grey ink from Zuko's quarters.

Deflating slightly with relief, the prince looked down at the dozing water-bender…and realized, blushing and striking a discordant note, what he hadn't denied.

"_It will be good for both of you…"_

* * *

**AN: **Anywho, I know it's a bit off, but this is kind of transitional. I'm trying to move things toward the big banging end of the war...and stuff. Just review and put me out of my cumilitive misery. Cheers. 


	14. Parallel, Complete, Halved, Sound

**AN:** So…expecting a screaming mob with pitchforks and burning pitch any second now. Haven't updated this in, oh, a year or so? However! I do have a semi-reasonable explanation: Stranger was having an Avatar drought. Stranger was uninspired. Thus, Stranger didn't write. Then the Avatar came back on the air. Stranger got inspired. Stranger got _excited_. Stranger went a little crazy…

And so, Stranger is now going to finish up _The Night Temple_ and get stuck into the sequels, featuring everyone's fave NT couple from the number one hit single, _The Wolf Bride_.

Also, there will be shameless shipping. Zutara, Sukko, or whatever the hell you call 'em, are my mains. You have been duly warned. (On this note, MM, Jonnoda, don't kill me. Please?)

However, on with the show…

* * *

**The Night Temple 14**

_Could a body close the mind out?  
Stitch a seam across the eye?  
If you can be good, you'll live forever  
If you're bad, you'll die when you die  
Hearing only one true note  
On the one and only sound  
Unzip my body  
Take my heart out…_

– Roisin Murphy, "Ramalama" –

* * *

Parallel

Lu Ten woke to a small tawny hand lifting stray amounts of fringe from his face. Chiu was sitting on the side of his bed, watching him with soft eyes. He noted she was still in her nightshirt and her hair was unbound, tiny white jade flowers still clinging to its long deep brown coils. He smiled, closed his eyes again and blindly reached for her hand, wrapping it in his own larger one. She made a small sound, and Lu Ten heard rustling and felt the bedclothes shift as she crawled in beside him.

Then there was the sudden unpleasant sensation of her cold feet coming into contact with his warm calves.

He turned his head and gave her a narrow-eyed glower. Chiu grinned back and kissed his cheek. "What? You're always warmer than me…"

"Not the point," he muttered back. They settled after that. Lu Ten found himself dozing as Chiu continued to comb his hair with agile fingers, humming something lilting under her breath.

"Only two months of Crossover left today." For all that it was said casually, he could hear the underlying brittleness. Something was wrong.

For the six or so years they'd been together (_it felt like more, but how could one tell, in the Temple, with no seasons or year markers_) he had found that bluntness always worked best with Chiu. He found her eyes and searched her face. "What's wrong, Chiu?" he murmured. "What's happened?"

"I never should have agreed to teach her."

The very faintest signs of tears; a sheen on those bluer-than-blue eyes. Lu Ten joined he dots. Katara, she was talking about Katara, about teaching her the old medic's defenses. Doing so had always been a risk. The Water Tribe girl was only fourteen, and empathic to boot. Such a virulent way of killing and protecting was not something she would find natural or pleasant.

But it had to be done. She was a key player in the war, and possibly one of the only water-benders in this day and age capable of learning what Chiu was teaching her…without going on a megalomaniacal power trip.

It was the reason Chiu had been assassinated. And not just her, but all of her teachers and those who knew anything of the medic's defense. In the midst of a distant peacetime, her own people had crippled themselves by wiping out a fifteen year old girl and the techniques that might have saved them in the Hundred Year War.

Lu Ten looked at her now, and wordlessly pulled her to him, letting her weep on his shoulder.

"It'll be alright, _bao bei_, it'll be alright…"

* * *

Complete

"General?"

Iroh looked towards the door to his quarters within the Temple. Iva stood there, resplendent in lavender silk, a dream of a restless sleeper. The shadows cut across her face, rendering one eye violet, one eye gray. There was trouble in her face, in the set of her hands, the treble of her voice.

As always there came the whisper…_yew tree girl...do you grow in graveyards…?_

Yes, he thought, yes she grows in graveyards. Yet little children cleave to her, and her name is whispered with love by the blessed.

He smiled for her, and she gave him a small smile back as she glided across the room and came to sit beside him. For a time they watched leaves fall in Iroh's little garden full of tea herbs and baby maple trees. It was Iva who broke the silence.

"Iroh," she whispered, voice as soft as silk. "Do you know the story of how Omashu came to be?"

The Old Dragon turned to her, brows raised. "I do," he murmured. "The Cave of Two Lovers, the Tragedy of Oma and Shu."

The Night Daughter nodded. "Their souls came to us, centuries ago, and lay waiting for rebirth as soul-diamonds in the Starred Arch. Sixteen mortal years ago, Shu was reborn, and two years later, Oma followed. Or at least, most of her did. Part of her still haunts the foundations of her city, and I witnessed her rising and falling back there during my trial. She has not fully accepted her rebirth, probably because she does not believe she will find Shu again."

The yew tree girl turned fully to him, two-tonal eyes troubled. "They were born so far apart, remade so different."

Iroh nodded. "Where were they born?" A sneaking suspicion was steadily filling him.

"Shu to the west, Oma to the south."

"The Fire Nation…"

"…and the Southern Water Tribe, yes. Iroh, Katara needs that stubborn piece of herself back. If she doesn't, the madness of learning the medic's defense could kill her."

Iroh tensed. "Then Oma must be found and convinced. You wish me to speak to her?"

Iva nodded her asset.

The General nodded. "I will, but tell me this, Priestess." He turned solemn gold eyes upon her, glinting with protective fire in the dim Autumnal light. "In their first lives they fell. In this are they doomed to fall, to fail?"

The smile that blossomed on the Shadow-bender's face could have replace Agni in his jealous sky, if only for a moment.

"No," she told him, as her shadows curled in wistful shapes across the walls and ceiling, "no, Old Dragon, they are not doomed to fail; they are destined to complete."

* * *

Halved

It was like breathing.

Katara stirred, feeling the _other_ press against the wall of her mind.

_We are one. We are both. I am waiting._

And, some time later, with a pair of electric emerald eyes boring into her own, down to the bones of her naked soul she heard, _We shall find him. We shall…_

She woke upon Zuko's bed, the boy himself asleep on the far corner, a guitar in his lap. His hair fell across his eyes, whole and ruined. She saw with strange detail the clarity of his expression in sleep, the elegant shapes that his hands and wrists made as they hung upon the guitar and his right knee.

A single word resounded within her skull and for a moment he wasn't really Zuko...

_The word_, the word was her goal, her destiny, the patterned filigree that would bind her back together, back into a singular piece of girl.

Omashu.

_Oma and Shu._

Near and far away, beneath her city, the spirit stirred and reached and waited.

* * *

Sound

In the city of Omashu, known recently as New Ozai, there were two gong towers, one to the east where Agni begins his daily trek, and one to the west where he ends it. They were not tall or particularly graceful spires, for they were created with the original city, by Oma herself in a fit of rage and grief.

Do not be fooled; there is nothing upright or graceful about grieving, especially in those first wrathful moments.

For their origins they were sacred, and so monks of the earthen creed tended them. Since the day of the gong's creation, only one had ever sounded. The one to west, Shu, pealing out his single lonely note, ever waiting for his mate to reply.

But Oma never did.

The gong itself was believed to be faulted in some way, the metal corrupted. But when another was cast and hung, it would not call either. No gong will call from Oma's tower.

Until now.

In 'New Ozai', the eastern tower seemed to shift imperceptivity upon her foundations, as though the earth below were gently lifting her shoulders. The few monks within its walls cried out in shock, then in fear, as the great gong swayed and then began to call on its own, though no blow had been struck.

Eventually it had to be taken down, because it would not cease to give voice, calling and calling and _calling_ across the city to the tower of Shu, and everyone was half afraid he would spontaneously begin calling back.

The gong was pulled down, but even so, the sound remained; a single liquid note, followed by a whisper on the cusp of human hearing…

_Katara, Katara, Katara…_

* * *

**AN2:** It's plot twisty. Review?

* * *


	15. Unspooling, Spilling, Soprano, Lullaby

**AN:** So, who saw blood-bending coming? I sure as hell didn't. I mean, I put in the medic's defense, thought it was too dark for the show and then – wow! Psycho-bender! Blood-bending! Katara thrown for a loop!

In case you haven't figured it out, this chapter is going to be Zuko and Katara intensive, but I promise the next will be full of Aang (and possibly Taangy) goodness. With that in mind, I'm not really comfortable with writing all out pairings in twelve-year-olds, so be patient with me (I promised sequels didn't I?)

This chapter gave me a serious headache. I had to really work on it; I even went back and rewatched a whole lot of old season 2 eps to get back on track.

Also, you want music to read this to? Get onto YouTube and search Clint Mansell's stuck for "The Fountain", "Lux Aeterna" and "Dead Reckoning". Bleeding beautiful. The music described in Soprano is "Xerxes' Tent" from the movie _300_.

* * *

**The Night Temple 15**

_Your mind is swollen  
From months of thought without release  
They've taken their toll on you  
And this very moment  
Of timid and fragile honesty  
Is precious and rare and fleeting_

– Brooke Fraser, "Scarlet" –

* * *

Unspooling

She pulled her hood forward and checked the corks on her water skins. Breathed; _keep it slow, in, out…_

The night was sweet, dark air deep with the scent of wood smoke and cherry blossom sugar. She could hear too much for human ears. She could feel each individual whorl in her fingertips. She could see marsh lights on the edges of her vision, each the colour of her mother's eyes.

Like prophecy, Kita was there; full of concern, of worry, her gaze two gems of blue in a sky of black ash and a sloping landscape of tawny skin. She took her daughter's hands.

"Sweetheart…"

"Its okay, Mom. Really. This is what I have to do. I know it, deep down."

Katara looked up at her dead mother and smiled.

"I have to go, and find this other piece of myself. It's why I'm not handling, y'know? If I do this, I'll – I'll have the medic's defense nailed."

Chiu came forward, her eyes like oceans. Full of tears, of regret, of guilt and affection.

"Katara, I – I never would have – if we had known…"

Katara took the other girl's face in her hands, pressed their foreheads together. Chiu gripped the front of Katara's cloak, sniffing, the tears spilling down her cheeks, and Katara wondered if the dead cried salt water like the living, and what dead oceans might taste like.

_Wow, I really am going mad,_ she thought. _There goes the__ neighbourhood__…_

"Chiu," she whispered instead. "I'll live. And I don't blame you."

She hugged them both, then stepped away and followed Iroh and Zuko and Iva under the Arch. Tonight it would lead to Omashu.

Tonight she was to be made whole.

* * *

Spilling

Omashu's night air was thick. Thick with the smoke of industry, of 'progress', of burning bodies and grief that gnawed bones.

Now, it smelt also of madness, and mist, and dark places lit suddenly with blue light.

Now Katara was here.

_Little water-bender…_

_Little Drowner…_

She shivered, and beside her, Zuko's gilded eyes slipped over to see, to check, to make sure…_please let this work_. He had only just gained her, as an ally, as a friend, and he knew it would break him that much more to lose her – to lose any of them, but most especially Katara.

And so they walked, the girl and her honour guard; Iroh to the left, Zuko to the right, Iva following, her shadows moving as fluid as ink, sheltering them in sweet darkness, shielding them from mortal eyes.

In the unseen reaches, hissing and the scraping of claws could be heard, the laughter of children – the laughter of the servals, their eyes winking like copper coins. Sparse light caught upon the edges of their unsheathed knives, the heads of their drawn arrows. The once-prince shivered in turn, remembering Maemi and her cohorts, and the sounds of ripping flesh.

They moved down the broken alleys of Omashu, their passage marked by slithering darkness amongst the half-lit streets. Children woke gasping and smiling from sleep, adults cowered and pressed offerings of rice wine and sweets upon their family altars, the elderly regarded the stars and felt the weight of their bones.

"Here."

And here they were. The eastern gong-tower rose above them, thickset and practical.

Waiting.

From here, they could here Oma's gong calling, even at this hour, its voice verdant and strong in the thick night air.

_Katara, Katara, Katara…_

The girl tucked her chin to her chest, breathing deep. There would be no need for Iroh to convince Oma.

_Katara, Katara…_

It was she who was drawing them forward, tugging them to this place. The water-bender felt it, deep down. The call, the want, the desperate need –

_Katara…_

– To be remade.

They entered and found a staircase going up but not down – until one opened at their feet, each step cutting itself from the earth only as they reached for it. Down, down, down…and the walls were suddenly alive with points of green light, the colour blazing softly and giving a strange cast to the eyes of the servals as they darted about – Zuko watched them skim up the sides of the staircase, claws hooking, children's feet scrabbling, two-tonal ears switching back and forward.

And then, abruptly and without warning, the staircase ended and they were spilled into a chamber.

It was huge, cavernous, the bowed ceiling stretching above them, supported by thick pillars, each a badgermole, their stout bodies curved in the most archaic of earth-bending stances.

Above, stalactites of phosphorescent crystal hung from the ceiling in great arcs, arms of light reaching to meet the stalactites rising from the floor about them. The colours varied here, ranging through smoky pearl, sunlight yellow to deep abiding emerald and luxuriant turquoise. If you looked into them deep enough, you could see things.

Zuko caught sight of a young man, face blurred, but familiar, climbing a mountain side, full sunlight making his faded blue robe seem brighter, newer. He looked upward, and smiled as though he had caught site of something special. He mouthed a name that Zuko couldn't quite make out…

Iroh saw a dragon, his sides richly scaled in red and gold, his greatly spanned wings casting no shadow over the earth and oceans that fell away below him. Beside him, laughing in their strange rough voices, were two smaller dragons. One wore a white collar, the other a patch of black scales over his left eye.

Katara saw oceans. Oceans breaking upon a strange shore, and a girl standing at the prow of an iron ship. Her dress was the colour of spilled blood; beautiful, but she wore it with a bodice of boiled leather and matching greaves. She drew a knife from the sheath at her hip. There were words there, characters she couldn't make out…

And Iva?

Iva perceived only the yew tree of her birth and shadows – that which made her and that which she commanded. It was as it always had been, and it was enough.

Then, at the other end of the sculpted chamber, something moved, and came awake, and came somewhat alive.

Oma rose. Oma saw. Oma whispered.

"Katara…"

* * *

Soprano

There are few words for what happened next. All Katara remembered was looking into the earth spirit's eyes, thinking how very green they were, followed by the sensation of falling and a sense of completeness that at once filled her up and broke her heart. Faces flashed over her vision, and then nothing.

What Zuko saw might be a more accurate account of what took place.

Zuko had never seen Oma before. It was as though the earth itself had simply given birth to a person, the way the shadows had risen up and borne Iva in her yew tree. Oma was tall in the old way of Earth Kingdom women, her hair – black, bold, lifting in an unseen wind – was strewn with holly berries like beads of blood and leaves of paper thin emerald. Her kimono was the colour of clay, the deep flesh-red kind that can only be found at the bottom of quarries…as though it were seeped full of the world's lifeblood. At the hem and sleeves, it seemed the garment _was_ made of clay, for it was flaking away, leaving trails of soft orange specks on the beaten dirt floor.

And her face…

Her face was a promise.

It was as though, perhaps, some window into the future had opened and through it lay a picture of what Katara grow to be – the rise of cheekbones, the slope of a nose, the arch of eyes and brows, the bow of lips and curve of jaw… was all something to look forward too. She was a mirror, and the little water-bender was the one who looked into the glass.

Barefoot, the earth spirit approached her rebirthed self. The cavern filled with whispers.

_We are one. We are both. I am here._

Oma's hand came up, her palm drifting over Katara's face, barely touching. The water-bender's eyes slipped closed, lips parted.

_We shall find him…_

The electric green eyes bored into Zuko's own over Katara's shoulder, for only the briefest of moments.

_We shall…_

The once-prince heard Katara murmur, voice echoing, "Shu…"

_Yes._

In a flicker, the water-bender threw up her arms, fanned fingertips reaching for the distant ceiling, and as she did, mist rose, drawn from the damp soil. The world smelt abruptly of new fallen rain. Oma threw her head back, face filled with heady ecstasy.

_Yes…_

A girl's laughter seemed to rise from nowhere, filling the cavern, interweaving with the mist. As it reached fever pitch, music could be discerned; the roughened voice of a suungi horn, drums beating out a heart's song, reed pipes lowing with sorrow, a violin rasping for forgiveness…

To the music, both spirit and girl spun, the mist burling and twisting in their matched wake. At first, Zuko thought they were dancing, but then he recognized the movements, the stances. They were moving through bending katas, matching each other, syncing up. It began as rudimentary earth bending, but as their limbs steadied, as the pace rose, stomp became step, shove became slide, and earth gave way to water.

_Oh, yes._

The kata ended on a twist, Katara turned, and Oma…

Oma sank into her. Passed through her, and didn't come out the other side.

Katara gasped once, her eyes rolled back in her head, and Zuko had time to shout her name as she fell before dashing forward to break her fall.

"_Shu_…" she whispered once against his neck.

* * *

Lullaby

Light held her. She was one piece of girl. She was whole, and new, and old as bending itself.

She was waking up.

Someone was humming.

"Zuko," Katara rasped. "You should never sing."

The boy sitting on the corner of her bed looked up through his dark hair at her and smiled.

"Sure," he murmured. "You okay?"

She sighed. "Yeah." Carefully, she curled onto her side to gaze at him. The guitar was back in his lap, long fingers moving softly over the strings, and they were back in her quarters within the Night Temple.

"How long were we gone?"

"Three hours for us, a day and a night for them. Sokka and your Mom were worried. Chiu came with them to see you earlier." He glanced over at the door. Maemi stood there, Rin on her hip. "Go tell them she's okay?"

The serval nodded and took off. The faint sounds of her little feet on the polished floor were echoes from the day Katara saw her for the first time. Their maid bringing breakfast and entrance to a hole in the spirit world…

Katara reached out one hand, using her fingertips to trace spiral patterns over the surface of the guitar's body.

"Make you a deal?"

"What?"

It was so nice to speak this softly…

"You play, I'll sing. Do you know 'Indelible'?"

Zuko smiled again. "I know 'Indelible'. I like the chorus best."

"Me too."

He began to play, and, very gently, she began to sing. When they got to the chorus, it went like this:

"That the first time I see your face  
Everything else around me will fade to the background  
And I'll be struck full by the truth in your gaze  
As you work an indelible change in me…"

* * *

**AN2:** 'Indelible' is another little beauty by Brooke Fraser.

Big kisses to figureskatingazherd, kaibasgirlx, candidus-lupus-full Moon, GirlWaterShaman, ZutaraXD and satinsilversnowflake for reviewing.

Now go and do it again – and while you're there, tell me how you feel about **Marmite**.


	16. Traveler, Attachment, Legend, Visions

**AN:** 'Pathik' means 'traveler' in Hindi. I'm so engagingly intellectual. Not.

Anywho. This is a transitional chapter, something I loathe doing. This is why I initially set this out as drabble series – so I wouldn't have to write _every moment_ of their _waking lives_! When you read keep in mind, I'm still writing these as a series of interconnecting _drabbles_. They are a string of moments, so you're only going to get little points of action, not screeds.

**Also:** Big shout out to _Insane Elvish_ – **you came back!!** I heart you! And massive hugbees to all who reviewed, especially _**MormonMaiden**_, my One Hundred and First Reviewer, and Receiver of Stranger's First ever GLOMP.

**Please Note:** Okay, timeline-wise, all the stuff that's been going on the past 15 chapters? In mortal time, that took only _three weeks_, but they would've had 147 days in the Night Temple. The last mortal week is coming up, which gives them roughly 49 days left…

* * *

**The Night Temple 16**

_Once in a while I return to the fold  
With people I call my own  
Even if time is just a flicker of light  
And we all have to die alone  
What does it mean when you belong to someone  
When you're born with a name, when you carry it on?_

– The Finn Brothers, "Won't Give In" –

* * *

Traveler

"It's high time," Chiu announced the day before the last mortal week of Crossover, "that you learn to control the Avatar state. After all, we can't have you flying off the handle and blowing things up at the drop of a hat, can we?"

Aang stared at her. He had been having breakfast with her and Lu Ten in the former Fire Prince's quarters when Chiu had leapt to her feet and begun a monologue of burgeoning insanity.

"_Control_ the _Avatar state_? I can do that?"

Chiu gave him the hairy eyeball. "You're education was sorely lacking, wasn't it? Didn't they ever teach you history?" She threw up her hands. "Never mind! _So_ not the point right now. The point is: we need to find you a teacher…"

"You can't teach me?"

Chiu shook her head. "It needs to be an outsider. To do this, you need to be in the physical world, whole and controlled as a single entity. While you're here, you're automatically broken down into your separate lives. Inside the Night Temple, you're just Aang, I'm just Chiu, Roku – wherever the heck he gets to these days – is just Roku, and every other past Avatar is just that; a past Avatar."

"So, it has to be someone from outside…"

"What about Pathik?"

Both Avatars stared at Lu Ten.

"Who?"

Lu Ten raised two handsomely arched eyebrows and responded with, "You know, _Pathik_? Scrawny little guy? The guru at the Eastern Air Temple? Old friend of Gyatso's?"

When both continued to stare blankly he threw up his hands.

"Am I the only one who socially networks around here?"

* * *

Attachment

There were places inside himself that Aang did not want to go. Bad places, where people got hurt because of him, where people died, where the world came to an end…

There were places that he did not want to go, and yet there he went, because he had to, and because he owed it to those same people.

Fear must be cast away so that there can be survival.

_The Blue Spirit's snarling face…Zhao full of wrath and snarl…Katara sucked beneath the earth…a comet – __**the**__ comet – roaring overhead…the glow of his own deadly hands…the shadow a man behind a wall of flames…_

But behind the spirit mask there was only Zuko. Zhao lived in penance beneath an ocean. Katara still lived. The comet had yet to come. He could learn control. And when the time came, he would know what to do.

Guilt must be absolved so that happiness can flourish.

_He ran away from his destiny…the faces of the earth kingdom soldiers as they broke on the waves of his will…on the waves of the Avatar state's power…_

Guru Pathik's voice, woven through a haze of meditation and thought: "It has past, Aang. It is time you learnt to forgive yourself…"

Shame must be overcome, so that willpower can carry one forward.

_Katara crying out as the flames – __**his**__ flames – bore down on her…the angry marks upon her hand and forearm…"I'll never be a fire-bender…I'll never fire-bend again…"_

But not all fire-benders were bad. He remembered Kuzon, bright-eyed, forever singeing the sleeves of his shirts, thought of Roku with his patient smiles and unfailing wisdom. He remembered Lu Ten, energized by philosophy and prose, kissing the back of Chiu's hand at breakfast that morning, thought of Iroh laughing at one of his own jokes, showing his nephew how to move just so, _"Fire comes from the breath…"_

And Zuko, who wore the destiny of his nation upon his shoulders, and could still smile at a sunrise, could still admit he was wrong. Zuko who had looked at Aang that one day and said, _"When did we become friends?"_

Not all fire-benders were bad. "You are the Avatar, Aang," he heard Pathik say, "thus; you are a fire-bender…"

Greif must be healed, so that love can be nurtured.

_His people, destroyed, broken, burnt away to nothing…Gyasto's face turning to cinders in front of him…his dreams filled with billowing ashes made of people…tears upon his face…_

New faces looked back at him. Katara, as he woke into the world. Toph, first in the swamp, then grinning at him over the expanse of the Earth Rumble arena. Sokka, brandishing his spear. Others, too; Suki smiling secretly behind her fan, Jet's smirk as he battled, Yue laughing softly, Haru's brave grin, Teo looking up at him in the air, full of delight… All of them held some place in his heart.

Lies must be dispelled, so that the truth can be found.

"_I never wanted to be the Avatar…"_

His past lives spiraled out, pooled around him, smiled back at him. He could see Roku and Kyoshi, a water bender called Kuruk, an air-bender called Yangchen. Beyond them he saw Chiu as she must have looked before she died – the white jade absent from her hair, wrapped in furs instead of her dancing gear.

_You might never have wanted it, but few rarely do,_ they whispered as one. _You might not have wanted to be the Avatar, but you are, as we were before you. This is how it is. How it will be._

And it was.

Illusion must be disproved for one to find insight.

_The world spun around him, and he saw its boarders…the ways its peoples cut it into chucks and proclaimed…proclaimed themselves different…proclaimed themselves separated…_

With a rush he was inside the world. Like the roots of the giant trees of the Foggy Swamp he perceived the lines that tied the people of the world together. There were literally millions of them, millions of profound connections, across boarders and countries and oceans…across the stubborn lines of the war, as though it wasn't even there.

"We are one people," he heard Pathik say, "yet we live as though divided. Separation is the greatest illusion of all…"

Earthly attachments must be put aside so that one may be connected to pure cosmic energy…

"What?" Aang turned to the Guru, a horrified expression on his face. "Earthly attachments put aside…as in…_people?_"

"In some instances, yes." Pathik gazed at him with firm gray eyes. "Do they attach you to this world?"

"I – I don't…yes."

Katara's face flicked on the backs of his eyelids.

"Yes, she does."

"Then it is time to let go."

Something in him fought against it, tooth and nail. "But I love her! This was a good thing three Chakras ago!"

Pathik did not answer. He did not get the chance to. Somewhere inside of him, something else struggled to the surface; a different Water Tribe face – Chiu in grey mourning silks, ocean eyes full of sadness and old pain.

_Aang,_ she whispered. _There are things you need to know, to see…_

The world slipped away again, reformed and spilled out.

_Where are we?_ He said softly.

And Chiu replied, _the valley that will birth Omashu._

* * *

Legend

It came in flashes; a building montage of two lives.

They had seen each other the first time on that strange windy day, on top of the little mountain range that divided their village. From that vantage point, one could look down on the place where their valleys' met, merged, and where their kin waged war for control of each other.

But they looked at each other, and the world changed. Here, they were alone.

Aang saw Shu's face, and for a moment wondered why Zuko had green eyes and wore blue. Then he turned, found Oma looking back at him with Katara's face, and some understanding clicked into place.

Time spun on; they stood together, learning earth-bending from the hulking figures of the badger-moles, laughing under the sun, and then in the tunnels they built. Once she was late, and when she arrived they met in a frenetic tangle of limbs. Urgent kisses exchanged under the haunting light of the crystals.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright…?"

"I was so worried…"

"I couldn't get away…"

"Its alright, it'll be alright…"

But it wasn't.

Time spun again, and he watched, softly horrified as men in blue and red tore each other apart upon a bloodied battlefield. Arrows cut apart the sky, blades arced and shredded the sunlight, the earth was beaten by hundreds of angry feet.

And right in front of him, a man fell.

Shu.

His blue robes were purple with blood; Aang could see the broken arrows in his chest and shoulders. He coughed. Red spilled from his mouth, over his chin. His eyes were glazing, Aang couldn't think of a time when he felt more helpless. This man would die, and there was nothing he could do about it. There had never been anything he could do about it.

_But there was something __**I**__ could have done…_ Chiu whispered from his heart.

And there she was, face pale, ocean eyes wide, wading through the carnage, crying out and falling to her knees beside Shu.

"No, no, no…oh, my friend, not like this," she cried, voice thick with tears. "Please, no…"

She gloved her hand in glowing water, ran it over his chest.

"There is too much damage, Chiu," Shu rasped. "I can feel…oh, spirits."

_So much blood._

His hand gripped her wrist suddenly, knuckles white with effort.

"Tell…tell Oma…tell her I died well. Tell her there was no pain at the end. Tell her I love her. Tell her she is my last thought and my dying prayer."

Chiu nodded, unable to speak. When he slipped away, she closed his eyes, and earth-bent both of them down, down, down, until green light touched their skin, and she was able to look into Oma's horrified eyes.

The last thing Aang heard was her scream of grief, before the world shattered and he was back at the Air Temple, tears flowing silently down his face.

"Guru," he whispered. "I am ready to open the seventh Chakra."

* * *

Visions

Down he sank, and yet up he rose…

Light and stars, spinning, spinning, and backwards, away from him went Katara's image – sinking away from his sight and awareness – away and away and…

The heavens manifested below his feet as he rose. Looking up, he sighted a specter; himself, made out of stars and light, glowing in the Avatar State. Giant hands reached forth, encapsulating him in a sphere of brightness. His own tattoos began to glow, and he could _feel_ the light leaking from his eyes and mouth.

There…

There were voices crying out.

Visions swam over his eyes.

_Katara, imprisoned, demanding to be freed…Zuko, pinned to the ground by Dai Li gloves, his sister standing over him, smirking…Suki, restlessly pulling a tunic and__ armour__ over her bandaged arms and torso…Toph, banging angrily on the walls of a metal prison…_

_I have to help them!_

_**No.**_

_Chiu?_

Ocean eyes gazing into his from very face away, and yet right in front of him. _I saw it too, Aang. I'm still in the Night Temple, or at least, part of me is. I can send help. You need to stay here. You __**need**__ to do this._

Aang swallowed, closed his eyes, and let go.

* * *

**AN2:** Sorry, guys, not much Taang (I know, Zuko and Katara just keep on slipping in there!) Also, the next chapter might take awhile (oops, cliffhanger) but mid-semester is coming up and this little Creative Writing major has a buttload of stuff to do.

Oh yeah, review?


	17. Trapped, Boxed, Amoured, Embroiled

**AN:** So, the stats are as follows:

105 reviews; 4,833 hits (and counting); 2 C2s; 25 favourites and 27 alerts.

Lets here it for the big love guys! And keep it flowing, your praise/constructive criticism/happiness keeps me going in the blockiest of writers-blocked moments.

Also, remember boys and girls – _drabbles_, points of action…

* * *

**The Night Temple 17**

_A million roads, a million fears  
A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty  
I could speak a million lies, a million songs,  
A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time  
But if there was a single truth, a single light  
A single thought, a singular touch of grace  
Then following this single point, this single flame,  
The single haunted memory of your face_

– Sting's "A Thousand Years" –

* * *

Trapped

And the day had been going so well, Katara reflected.

She hit the floor of the cave with a yelp and snarl, but the passage closed before she could get her feet under her.

"I'll get you for this!" she yelled nevertheless. "Don't think I won't!"

"Katara?"

She turned, taking in the caves for the first time, as well as her apparent cellmate.

"Zuko? They got you too?"

She watched him snort steam and clench his fists at his sides. "Yeah. My sister –"

"– is swanning round the City pretending to be a Kyoshi warrior. I know. I went with Toph to send a message to her Mom and she and her friends ambushed us with two earth-benders Toph's Dad sent after her. Can you believe some people?"

She threw her hands up, and he couldn't help smiling a little.

"How did they get you, though?" she asked.

Zuko sighed. "Azula's taken control of the Dai Li. They got to Jin," he said softly. "I think they figured out it was her that helped us with Jet. When they came for us, she was wearing a Joo Dee robe and her eyes were…there was almost nothing there, Katara."

She looked like she wanted to cry, but got herself under control. "Where's Iroh though?"

Zuko let out a soft, bitter laugh. "He had the sense to get out of there, probably thought I was right behind him. I stayed, tried to fight Azula. Got my butt handed to me, as usual."

Katara closed her eyes. _Why now?_ Everything had been going well. In the three mortal weeks the Night Temple had been open she had seen her mother, learned two new water-bending forms, regained a piece of her soul and made friends from enemies and spirits. So why, _why_, did everything have to come crashing down now?

Something awful suddenly occurred to her.

"Oh _spirits_ –" (which these days wasn't an idle oath) "– Zuko, where do you think your sister and her friends got the Kyoshi outfits; the fans and armour and…_who…_?" she put her hand to her mouth. "_Suki_…"

Zuko saw the dread on her face.

"Katara, no," he said, stepping close to her and gently gripping her arms. He made sure she met his eyes. "You can't believe that, you mustn't." One tear slipped down her cheek, and he pulled her close, her face pressed to his chest, slim hands bunching his shirt.

"We can't believe that," he whispered into her hair, "for Sokka's sake."

"You don't have to," piped a little voice from behind them.

They turned as one, mouths open with surprise.

"Maemi?"

"What do you mean…?"

The serval's spotted ears twitched in excitement.

"The Kyoshi Warriors all live. And they're coming here."

* * *

Boxed

After so many days of sight, the sudden nothingness could be disconcerting, until…

She crashed her braced knuckles against the metal wall and grinned fiendishly as the chips of impurities revealed themselves her inner eye.

"Yeee-us…"

She re-spread her feet, gripping with her toes. Growled in her throat the way the servals did. Breathed deep and –

**Thwack!**

Her hand _ached_, but in the thrumming iron she could 'see' a dent the size of a melon.

"Whoo! Toph," she told herself, "you rule."

With a second bone-busting **thwack!** and a triumphant cry of "wu-_tah_!" from the box's small occupant, the metal surrendered, folding, rending and _bending_ out with a shriek and a groan.

Snickering, Toph leapt out – and straight into the arms of…

"Ro!"

The serval cackled. "You _are_ the greatest earth-bender in the world!"

"They're all thinkin' it, I'm just sayin' it," she quipped, delighted.

He cackled again. Behind them, there were alarmed shrieks and yells from her captors – evidently, Ro had brought friends who were now introducing themselves to Xin Fu and Master Yu. The night air tasted like comedy and candy.

"Wanna have some fun before we head back to the City?" Ro asked slyly.

Toph's smile was frightening. "Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Armoured

Something clicked at the window.

Suki turned –

"Who's there?"

– But there was nothing.

She turned back towards her work table…and very nearly screamed.

There were three children standing there, gazing at her with nerve-tripping burnished copper eyes. None of them could have been older than twelve. They wore beige boots and greaves and the paneled leather armour over their fawn tunics was the same rich brown as that of Kyoshi. There were bows and quivers at their shoulders, knives at their hips and calves.

In the dim light of her single candle, she could see furred, two-tonal ears peeking out from their ragged hair. The hair rose on the back of her neck…these weren't ordinary children…

And then, from behind them stepped a small familiar figure in her nation's native greens.

"Toph?" she breathed.

"What's up, War Paint? Me and the cats –" she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the three strange kids, "– thought you and your girls could use a little help. But first, my buddy Ro's got a little present for ya."

One of the 'cats' stepped forward, a smile on his cunning face. He held out a slip of black paper to her, silver characters shimmering on its dark surface. She could smell night-blooming jasmine.

_The __**Night Temple**__ invites the Kyoshi Warriors to walk beneath the Starred Arch and to join the Servals and their Compatriots in Noble Combat._

Suki looked up, eyes flaring. "Combat?"

"We've located the Fire Princess and her companions," said the one called Ro.

Azula's contemptuous face flashed across the backs of her eyes.

"We can loan you and your warriors armour," he continued. "Perhaps not what you're used to…"

'_You'll get yours, Princess.'_

The Kyoshi Warrior's face filled with beautiful, savage light.

"Then let's gear up."

'_I swear it!'_

* * *

Embroiled

"Hakoda, our scouts have spotted four fire nation ships!"

"Chief, strangers are making their way down the cliffs from the woodland!"

The Water Tribe camp of Chameleon Bay was briefly torn until Sokka got to his feet and called that he recognized the cliff-side party.

"I don't believe it," he muttered to the confusion of his father and fellow Tribesmen, then raised his voice and called, "Lan Ying, Master Eban, what're you guys doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet friends, Sokka?" Lan Ying called back. The dead earth-bender was grinning in a way that reminded him sharply of Toph.

He smiled as they got closer and told her this

Lan Ying cocked her hip and gave him an affectionate smirk. "Who knows? I had relatives down 'round Gaoling; maybe she's my cousin or something. After all, she had to get the talent from somewhere…"

"Sokka?" Hakoda was regarding the newcomers with forgivable wariness. "Care to introduce your friends?"

They must have looked fierce to him, Sokka realized, Lan Ying with her blunt rancour and sooty death-by-fire markings; Eban, huge, the spirit sigil glittering upon his forehead and the hangman's noose still about his neck.

"Sorry, Dad," the boy said, giving the two Temple denizens uncomfortable looks. "Guys, this is my dad, Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe. Dad, this is Lan Ying and Master Eban of West Lien Village. They're um –"

"West Lien Village?" Hakoda interrupted, frowning. "I've heard of that place. It's a ghost town, it has been since it was raided and burnt nearly to the ground –"

"Five years ago," Eban finished, speaking for the first time. "No survivors."

The Water Chieftain stared at the two earth-benders, eyes widening with a kind of terrible understanding. Sokka saw it when his father's eyes went past Lan Ying and Eban, focusing on another newcomer as they moved up the beach from the cliffs – a figure in familiar blue, her walk like snow fall and sunrise combined, her face a prophecy of love and retribution.

"Kita," Hakoda breathed.

Sokka grinned. "Mom!"

Lan Ying and Eban stood aside for the dead Tribeswoman as she approached her husband and son, a smile on her soot-masked face.

She put one gloved palm against Sokka's cheek, kissing his forehead, and he noticed she was dressed for combat the same way Katara did these days: in pants an tunic, with quick-soled servals' boots and blue bindings upon her forearms. She wore her braid out and her hair loops gathered to one side, her navy beads the twins the ones in his father's hair. The earrings he had given her at their wedding – teardrops of glacier lapis – swung from her ears, catching the fading light.

There was a convoluted wildness about her that he did not remember, though Hakoda must have; Sokka could see it reflected in the older man's face, the light of his eyes, the convulsive swallowing of his throat as he fought to gather the right words.

Kita solved this by speaking first, and then removing the need for speech.

"Snow Bear," she whispered, before taking his face in both hands and kissing him.

"Sick," Sokka commented with approval, then herded Lan Ying and Eban down the beach to demand explanations of them.

The former obliged.

"It's not just the servals that get to run around outside the Temple – we get a week of mortal nights for visitations each Crossover. Me and 'Ban've been saving ours up for the imminent butt-kickery. I missed getting my violence on," she confided.

Sokka processed this. "Okay, but why this bit of butt-kickery? It's gonna get worse in, like, a month when we hit Black Sun. You know this right?"

"Yeah…"

"We came to relieve you, Sokka," Eban intoned. "A crisis has arisen in Ba Sing Se; something you must attend to. That, and there is someone you will wish to be reunited with…"

Lan Ying looked suddenly sly. "A certain fan-wielding lady in green." She waggled her dark eyebrows.

Sokka was transformed in abject delight. "Suki!"

"Yup."

"This is great! But, what about –?" He flicked his eyes towards his parents.

Eban bowed his dark head. "You mother mentioned something about wishing to test the spear technique your father taught her, so many years ago. That," he added, glancing at the couple still ardently embracing, "and I think she just wanted to see him."

"Sick," Sokka said with slightly less approval, carefully looking away. "So, how am I getting back to Ba Sing Se without a flying bison?"

Lan Ying pointed up the cliff to the trees she and her companions had emerged from, and he saw the band of gem-bright stars visible in the darkening sky hanging over the woods' canopy.

"When the sun sets, a gateway to the Starred Arch will open – see the second star to the right?" she said. "Follow that and you'll be in Ba Sing Se long before morning."

* * *

**AN2:** The Kyoshi Babes are back! Hopefully next 'sode it'll be time for an Ozai's Angels/Kyoshi Warriors smackdown. But again, you're going to have to be patient with updates, I only had one assignment where I got to write fanfiction for credit, and this isn't it.

Review constructively, lovelies, lots of examples and discussion of content and themes! And don't forget to go **vote in my poll**, I wanna know what you guys want to read after I finished this fic. Kiss-kiss!


	18. Confusion, Retribution, Rising, Falsity

**AN:** It's on. Like Donkey Kong. And possibly the Beatles.

However, like this one, I'm going to try to keep updates short and snappy. Its easier to churn them out that way.

The song is _'All Along the Watchtower'_, first released by Bob Dylan, but if you want to get the feel for it I intended, go find the **Bear McCreary** version on YouTube. It'll rock your Avatar socks.

Now, strap yourselves in and let's get this puppy rolling.

* * *

**The Night Temple 18**

_All along the watchtower, princes kept the view_

_While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too._

_Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl._

_Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl._

– "All Along the Watchtower", various artists –

* * *

Confusion

"Maemi, is there a gateway, down here, to the Night Temple?"

The serval nodded, head clothe nearly coming loose. "Just a little way down." She pointed to a small gap, barely visible past the pulsing light of the crystals, but small enough that both teenagers would have to suck in and squeeze to get through.

Zuko nodded. "Great, okay…Katara, you go first –"

It was then that Maemi let out a virulent hiss and ducked behind Katara. Her gaze went up to the ceiling, coppery eyes wide, the pupils dilated to wide dark pools. Zuko watched in mounting horror as the burnished irises steadily ate up the whites of her eyes. He had only seen this in servals once before, in Maemi in particular…

…_the kitten-girl licked the blood from her fingers in tiny, meticulous movements…_

…and that too had been in a set of tunnels, filled with the sounds of feeding animals, reeking of spilled life, of shadows and ending.

What possibly could have provoked the little sand spirit into this condition now?

"She's coming," Maemi snarled. She turned those frightening eyes on the once-prince. "She's coming for you, to try and sway you." One small hand, claws already lengthening, shot out and gripped his wrist.

It was a wonder she didn't draw blood.

"But you must remember," the serval breathed, "Azula always lies."

* * *

Retribution

In the verdant green halls of Ba Sing Se's Palace, a former acrobat attempted to show a bear how to walk on his front legs.

In any other situation, King Kuei reflected, it might have been funny.

Then the wall exploded inwards and things got even less funny.

Following this, through the gap in the wall came not only the miniature earth-bender and three armoured children with drawn bows and what appeared to be cat ears, but the true Kyoshi Warriors themselves.

"You look bored, Miss Mai," commented the lead Warrior, eyes flashing as she took in the girl lounging on the steps of the throne's dais. "Think a rematch would stir you blood any?" She smiled savagely. "It would certainly stir mine."

Kuei watched as the Warriors stepped out, spanning the throne room, the unfolding of their fans sending an echoing metallic song to shatter itself against the marble walls. Their clothing was ragged, their armour mixed and pieced together from old and new, their make-up strange and incomplete, but they were still sharp and quick and a force to be reckoned with.

The battle began, and thinking back, it had all happened rather quickly. He remembered one moment though, when the little acrobat attempted to disable Suki, forgetting one very important fact about the Warriors of Kyoshi:

You may beat, but once they know how you move they _never forget_.

He clutched Bosco and gazed, terrified and fascinated by the violence, as Ty Lee reached for Suki's shoulder. The other girl turned and like a whiplash, her fan snapped out immediately in the path the acrobat's fingers would have taken. The force of this small collision was such that there was a soft crunch, and Kuei realized with growing horror that the bones in Ty Lee's fingers had just _shattered_.

The acrobat fell back, letting out a long keening cry of pain, clutching her hand. Tears of shock had already begun making twin rivers down her face.

In that moment, Mai showed more emotion than he had thought possible of someone like her.

She spun, grey eyes widening, and heedless of the two Warriors she was fending off, sprinted to the fallen girl, calling sharply, "Ty Lee!"

It was almost sad to watch. Mai got a total of ten steps and loosed seven shuriken trying to get to her friend before she was brought down and bound up. Two Warriors barred his view of her as a courtesy while two more neatly frisked her for weapons. They were brutal and efficient, and soon a heap of small knives and needles lay upon the patterned floor. Kuei watched as they were pinned through a sheet of spare cloth, then wrapped in a leather case and stowed in one girl's hip pocket.

Ty Lee remained a silent bundle of crumpled green. One of the children knelt, inspecting her.

"We'll take them to the Temple. This one can be fixed there, and afterwards neither will be able to cause trouble." He gestured to his two companions.

Suki stood, eyes still glittering and hard. "Alright. Sakura, Haruhi, I want you to stay here and keep the King and the bear company." For the first time that night, her steely gaze was directed at him. "I'm sorry we can't stay, Your Majesty, but I have a bigger fish to fry…Toph, Ro, you can find her?"

And with that, they went back the way they came.

Kuei watched as the cat-children lead his former captors away, and then looked at the two girls that had been left with him.

Perhaps these two would be better company than the last.

* * *

Rising

He had barely made it below the Starred Arch when Chiu grabbed him and began racing down the paneled halls of the Temple.

"Chiu," he called franticly, to no avail. "What the heck?"

"You have to get to Ba Sing Se, _now_! Iroh's waiting at another gateway closer to the palace. Sokka," and here she looked over her shoulder at him, cerulean eyes wide with empathic fear, "Azula is there, and she's got Katara and Zuko."

All of a sudden it wasn't Chiu pulling Sokka down the hall, but Sokka pulling Chiu.

True to the former Avatar's word, Iroh was waiting at a City gateway for them. It was unnerving, to have passed beneath the Starred Arch in Chameleon Bay and now to pass beneath it again while exiting from a completely different door in the Temple. The light of the soul-diamonds lashed quietly around them, the bathing them in a cold, eye-catching glow.

"They're restless," Chiu whispered. She shivered.

Iroh was nodding his grey head. "They know something is happening. Tonight, the world rests on a knife edge of change." He looked to Sokka. "Do you have your whal-blades, young warrior?"

Sokka nodded. "Never leave home without 'em." There was some unknown, foreign quality in his voice. Something darker, deeper, more dangerous. A pit of protective rage had begun to boil coldly within him. If he had his way, Azula would not escape this encounter unscathed.

"Let's go."

Above them, unnoticed amongst the rippling soul-glow, something huge and white moved silently through the tightening night air.

* * *

Falsity

There was something eerily familiar about this situation, he thought. Something about his sister's face, the way she moved her hands as she spoke. It was like realizing you've been somewhere before, but when you were younger, and the world can only be half-remembered at best.

"_Dad's going to kill you…"_

"_Liar!"_

He risked a glance at Katara, watching him with level eyes, Maemi tucked close to her and both of them ringed with jutting crystal. Dai Li agents stood at the ready beside them; one wrong move and it would all be over. He shifted minutely, feeling the weight of the cuffs about his wrists. Small stones bit into his knees. Of course she would make him kneel.

"I don't like doing this to you, big brother, really I don't. But I need you to listen to me."

"_But you must remember…"_

The hair on his neck rose. He found Maemi's eyes and was caught like a dragonfly in the amber of her gaze. 'I remember,' he whispered with his own look. 'I remember.'

"I've missed you, Zuko," the Princess was saying. "All these years…it hasn't been the same without you." She widened her eyes at him in a beautiful artifice of sincerity. "And I know, even though he doesn't say it, Dad wishes you could come home."

He looked back at her, let his eyes tighten; let her think she had a chance.

"I want us to be a family again, Zuko."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes."

"_Azula always lies…"_

If a snake could smile, he thought, it would look just like his sister. He lowered his head, hair falling over his face. It was hard not to laugh, because he could feel the ground shaking very gently beneath his knees, and that could mean only one thing; only one person.

"Mom forgave you, you know," he whispered.

"What?" The colour drained from her face. "What did you say?"

He peered up at her. "Mom forgave you. I don't know why, but she did. She said it was just before they slipped the hemlock into her rice wine, up in that tower Dad put her in. I think she still loved you then."

He had never seen her so unnerved, so very vulnerable before. "You – you're – _I don't care_. I don't care and she thought I was a monster! So shut up! I don't _care_, Zuko!"

"But you'd give anything for the chance to see her again." He bored holes in her with the knives of his eyes. "You say you want to be a family again? _Too late_. You gave up the one you had in favour of power, so I've moved on and found new one."

If a dragon could smile, it would look just like Zuko did at that moment.

"And lucky you, you're about to meet a few of them."

For the second time that night, a wall exploded, and Toph emerged.

* * *

**AN2:** Wow, it's been three chapters of wind up. What's coming next must be pretty freaking cool. I'm the author, and _I_ don't even know how cool it is!

…not necessarily a good thing.

So, ah, review?


	19. Spin, Race, Battle, Emerge

**AN:** I updated. Its a miracle! Just to let you dudes know, after this chapter, we've got two more and then its finiiiiiiiiiished! After that, the sequel will be put into the production...just as soon as I finish writing and posting Brave Girls Wear Boots over on DeviantArt, and possibly here on as well. So, next year keep an eye out for **The Burning Moon**.

* * *

**The Night Temple 19**

_The razors and the dying roses plead  
I don't leave you alone  
The demi-gods and hungry ghosts of God  
God knows I'm not at home_

– VAST, "Touched" –

* * *

Spin

In the flurry of movement that followed, Katara registered only one thing clearly. Everything else was a series of snapshots, of packaged moments.

Toph pulling down the crystal cage about her and Maemi; the little serval leaping forward, needle teeth bared, claws reaching for the eyes of the nearest Dai Li agent; Zuko _shattering_ the crystal cuffs about his wrist and launching himself at his screeching sister; the Kyoshi Warriors, swift, elite, wearing hodge-podge serval armour and darting about cutting the Dai Li to ribbons wherever they stepped…

But all she cared about was that there was Ro, grinning at her, throwing his arms up, emptying the two water pouches that he had drawn from his sides. The water spilled upward with dramatic beauty. Katara reached, fingers splayed against the soiled air, call and welcome in her stance, and the glittering swath obeyed her.

Unbidden and roaring, the old medic's defense swam to her surface and burst hot from her bending. Ice upon their throats, blood rising in their lungs, needles through eye sockets, vessels rupturing in wrists and thighs…

_Drowner…_

It was brilliant and deadly and never, _never_ had she felt so clear-headed and yet so filled up with scintillating rage. What the Dai Li had done, what Azula had done and what the Dai Li had done in her service…nothing would be forgiven.

Not now.

Not ever.

Katara began to dance.

* * *

Race

The storm was gathering overhead, thunderheads boiling across the stars, masking the anxious moon as she gazed down upon the man and boy as they raced though Ba Sing Se's darkened streets and into the palace.

Lightning sheered apart the night.

Sokka looked up, temporarily blinded, but with a frightening image burnt into his retinas.

"Oh no. Iroh, is that –?"

The old General looked up. His face drained of colour.

"Yes," he whispered. "We must hurry."

Above them, a sphere of rushing air swung towards the imperial palace. Within it was the mammoth white shape of Appa, his coat the colour of hail, his roar magnified into something monstrous and earth-shattering by the gale force winds. Upon his head, discernable only because of the slashes of glowing chi tattoos, was Aang. He stood between the bison's horns, unafraid, his face bathed in haunting light and terrifying calm.

Below him, Sokka and Iroh bolted towards into the palace proper and followed the booms and roars of a bending battle. A thunderclap shook the walls as they moved downwards, finding themselves in the cellars where tunnels had been bent into the caverns of old Ba Sing Se.

"Was that…?"

"Thunder." Iroh's amber eyes narrowed. "Azula will have found them, or they will have found her. Come, there may not be much we can do at this point, but –"

"Every little bit helps. Yeah. My mom says that too."

* * *

Battle

Sokka readied his whal-blades and they plunged downwards. As green light encased them, they emerged and were engulfed in the echoing cries of battle. He took it all in at a glance, gazed hunting for one figure in particular.

He saw Toph, back to back with Ro, both wearing near identical expressions of savage happiness as she flung Dai Li agents left and right while he drew his bow again and again to fill them full of holes. Each rhythmic stamp of a small foot, each hot grind of a heel, each ratcheting jerk and slice of tiny hands brought down an opponent, threw him to the crystal studded floor and bound him to the traitorous earth. Iron drew itself from the soil just for her and bound their villainous hands. She made piles of them, breathing heaps of people, or lined them up against the walls like rows of frightened toy soldiers.

He saw Katara, face full of a terrible kind of serenity, solo dancing just the way Chiu had taught her. Her limbs flowed, she pirouetted and spun, and around her, the Dai Li fell back and forwards and down. He saw her hands claw, twist, wrist flex up then abruptly down – and two men went to their knees screaming, the blood pulled to their patellae so suddenly the pressure crushed their kneecaps.

He saw Zuko, whips of flame darting – _push and pull_ – biting at Azula's limbs as she struck at him, her own hands gloved in blue fire. Spin and twist and shove and strike. Flame and spark, blue and gold, death and heat.

"I thought you'd changed," he heard the Princess cry.

"I have changed," Zuko snarled back.

Still Sokka's eyes skipped. Over and over, hunting…there.

Suki and her girls, her warriors, blaze-eyed, darting like darkling ghosts, their fans flashing like half-risen suns in their hands. She turned to him then, and the smile that lit her face was the brightest of lights…

_Yue, I'm sorry._

The spirit sigils sang gently in his palms.

…and then she turned again, enameled steel biting the very air. The Dai Li agent sent his gloves flying, only to have then halved and crumbled by that humming metal. The Kyoshi Warrior's eyes were hard and cold – she never flinched as the fan flipped out again (his wrist) and again (his shoulder) and again (his throat).

Sokka's club came down with a crunch that would wake him sweating later, but for now, as the hated body dropped, all he could see was Suki in her halfling warpaint. There was a fine spray of blood across her face, patterned like red cherry blossom; when he kissed her, it tasted of love and steel.

* * *

Emerge

From his lighted eyes, he gazed at the fragments around him, at the factions of friends and foe that had been doing battle, now all frozen in horror and surprise or grim satisfaction as he and Appa brought down the ceiling and looked upon them.

For a few precious seconds, all was still.

Then Azula gave a snarl and surged forward, cold fire already stinging the air about her hands.

His eyes ticked to her, and in a flash he had moved to meet her upon one of the cliffs. She met his glowing eyes – and though he didn't know it, for the first time in a long time, Azula was afraid. But the fear was buried beneath rage and conquest, and so without so much as a blink of her elegant eyes, she smiled and sent her cold fire seeking his heart.

It didn't find it.

Because at what seemed like the last second, Zuko, moving quicker than anyone, even he himself thought possible, darted forward with a yell and got in the way.

There was another moment of silence as the lightning lit the cavern, throwing the once-prince's features into sharp, anguished relief. When it was gone, he stood gazing in shock at his sister, his hair and clothing smoking and a great raw wound still hissing with heat upon his chest.

He reached one shaking hand towards her as he fell. One word fell from his charred lips.

"'Zula…"

Azula, tears forming at the corners of her elegant eyes, opened her mouth and screamed.

* * *

**AN2:** Cliffhanger... although hopefully I've managed to hint at Azula not being so much of a heartless sociopath. More on that later. So, see you in, oh, bout a week, ten days for chapter 20. Until then, I would truely love some feedback on this latest installment. Thanks guys!


	20. Shaking, Breaking, Watchers, Waking

**AN:** Hey! Wasn't I a good girl, churning this out so quick? Okay guys, just one last chapter to go and then NT will finally be done with. I'll start posting **Brave Girls Wear Boots** next and next year I _should_ start putting together **The Burning Moon**. In between uni and work and social obligations of course...fun times!

* * *

**The Night Temple 20**

_I put my cards upon the table  
I do this because I am able  
One picks his broken down devotion  
I threw my pistol in the ocean  
Eyes wide with revelation  
Shine at the police station  
And when the verdict comes round  
I'm sure that you will go down  
Stay all night we'll save the population...._

– RHCP, "Save the Population" –

* * *

Shaking

In an instant, she was moving, water crashing down through the sundered ceiling from a nearby waterway and drawing together in a wave that carried her forward, heedless of any and all in its way, soaking Dai Li, Kyoshi and serval warriors alike.

The wave broke against the cliff and she leapt, for a moment magnificently airborne and streaming grief like ocean spray before she landed beside Zuko's fallen form and gathered him, smoking garments and all, into her arms.

Dimly, she was aware of Aang advancing, full of glowing menace towards the crying princess. Azula tried to push past him to get to her brother and the water-bender, but the Avatar, gazing at her with blank, cold eyes, flung out one hand and blocked her, before shoving one heel into the glinting earth and sending up a spur of rock that threw the princess from the cliff.

She flew silently and might (or might not) have landed with her usual cat-grace, but suddenly the remaining Dai Li, her pet earth-benders were there catching her and before anyone could stop them, bending downwards…disappearing into the earth and bearing Azula safely away.

Katara looked into Zuko's terribly still face, and didn't care. Sobs heaved her chest as she ripped the vial of spirit water from her throat and tore out the ornate stopper with her teeth. The water answered her wordless call and, spinning upon her palm like a silver top, sank into the still sizzling flesh of the once-prince's chest.

Shivering, shaking, she pressed her face to his shoulder as he lay upon her lap, in her arms and began to heal. As she did that other part of her, the newly retrieved part of her soul rose to the surface, bringing old memories with it.

"Shu," she whispered. "Shu, please, don't go…don't go, not when I just…"

She remembered the mountains, and sunlight, and the feel of his hand upon her face. She didn't understand what she was seeing, feeling, saying…nothing made sense.

_This is Zuko, not Shu,_ she tried to tell herself, and yet the part of her that was Oma whispered, _Yes, but he is the other as well._

"…not when I just found you…"

And beneath her hand he began to breathe again.

* * *

Breaking

The earth fell back before them, quick and efficient. None dared speak. One of the senior officers stood at the centre of the party, trembling faintly at the burden that lay unmoving in his arms.

The princess had yet to utter a word.

Terrified, the officer turned his scared face down to her, remembering vividly the speech she had given, her words of displeasure and punishment. Her eyes had been like living fire then, or perhaps living gemstones – unyielding yellow diamond by the light of the caverns.

Now…now, there was nothing there but abject shock (and perhaps grief) and their princess seemed somehow…broken.

The officer tightened his arms around her and stopped trembling.

"To Lake Laogai," he whispered. "The Princess will need somewhere to…recover."

* * *

Watchers

Jet stared at Ro.

"You want us to _what_?"

The serval stared levelly back. "We won't be around forever you know." The boy-cat wrinkled his nose. "Well, we _will_, but we won't be around to guard them forever." He focused back on Jet. "So you'll have to do it."

The Freedom Fighter looked down the length of the Temple's infirmary to the two figures huddled at the other end.

Ty Lee, the little acrobat, was shackled to her bed with padded cuffs and currently heavily sedated. One of her hands was covered in splints and thick bandages. At her bedside sat the dark and solemn figure of Mai, her grey eyes narrowed with some unnamable emotion. She sat very straight in her chair, her wrists likewise restrained, fingers forming a pale knot in her lap that betrayed her nervousness, or something very similar.

Jet didn't know what to make of either of them. And now, the Head Serval was telling him he and his remaining Fighters were in charge of them.

"For how long?" he asked.

Ro shrugged. "How should I know? I've no idea how long this mortal war of yours will go on."

Jet sputtered. "It's not _my_ war! It's not like we started it –"

The serval shrugged again. "Whatever. All I'm saying is that you'll have to keep an eye on them for as long as they're a danger to you and your cause. And who can say how long that will be? It could be forever."

The Freedom Fighter sucked in a breath and looked again at the two girls. For one strange, exhilarating moment, Mai lifted her coifed head and gazed back at him. Had either of them been a fire-bender, sparks might have briefly lighted the room.

"Forever's a long time," Jet breathed.

Ro, oblivious to the interaction, rolled his copper eyes.

"Tell me about it," he muttered.

* * *

Waking

He woke in a rush, visions of blood upon a landscape of muddied snow pressed to his eyelids, images of a face he knew and a face he had known meshing into one being that he might someday…might someday…

The feelings, the dreams escaped him and he sat up suddenly, or tried too. The muscles in his chest screamed in silent pain and he fell backwards, gritting a yell between clenched teeth.

"Zuko?"

Peeling his eyes open, he registered where he was for the first time. An Earth Kingdom bedchamber, from the looks of the bed hangings and ceiling. A nice one too…really nice…as in, Royal-nice.

"I –" He swallowed. "I'll need to thank King Kuei," he rasped.

"What?"

Katara, who had been sleeping in the armchair beside the really nice bed, was at his side, peering anxiously down at him. He could feel the mattress dipping under her weight and the warmth of her hip pressed to his. One of her arms was braced by his ribs while the opposite hand rested delicately upon his shoulder, as though asking a silent question.

Swallowing again (for a rather different reason) he found her hand with his and repeated, "I'll have to thank King Kuei…this is a really nice bed."

She smiled at him, eyes lightening. "So you've guessed where we are?"

"The imperial palace, right? Still in Ba Sing Se?"

"That's the one."

He took a slow breath, seeing how far he could fill his lungs with out his chest igniting. The bandages caught him before pain did, which he took as a good sign. "How long have I been out?"

Katara gazed sadly at him. "Three days…"

His good eye widened. "But…that means…"

She nodded. "We've only got four days of Crossover left…and then the Night Temple will be closed to us. Chiu said…she said it could be for another seven years, or it could be forever. No one knows. Iva's not actually the one that writes the invites, apparently. They just show up in her quarters and the servals deliver them. The Temple just generates them itself…"

"You're babbling," he told her not unkindly.

She bit her lip. "Yeah. Sorry. It's just…"

"I know." He squeezed her hand. "We'll have to say goodbye."

He watched her wrestle with tears for a moment before taking a great shaking breath and saying, "There's something else."

A soft feeling of impending doom settled across him, unwelcome and blanket-like. "What?"

"Kuei is still backing Sokka's plan. After Crossover ends…the Earth Kingdom armies will rise and we march for the Fire Nation and for the Day of Black Sun."

* * *

**AN2:** _Dum-dum-duuum... _ Okay, feedback time! Hit that shiny button!


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